


Secret Sleepless Slumber Parties

by ChamomileTease



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, F/M, Fluff, It will probably get explicit ngl, Masturbation, My First Work in This Fandom, Party Games, Seven Minutes In Heaven, Sleepovers, Slow Burn, Strip Games, Truth or Dare, Well look at that it got explicit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7103464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChamomileTease/pseuds/ChamomileTease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marinette and the gang celebrate the summer after their last year of high school the best way they know how – with secret drunken sleepovers, including heated matches of truth or dare that become ever more naughty as the nights go on. A slow burn with lots of smut throughout!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Ladybugs and The Bees](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432915) by [BullySquadess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BullySquadess/pseuds/BullySquadess). 



> Hey friends! So since I'm beginning this during the post-season 1 hiatus, and because this is set a few years after the events of the show, there will certainly be some inconsistencies as the next few seasons come out in terms of confessions and reveals and all that good stuff. I hope you enjoy my take on it either way and stay tuned for more!

If you had told Marinette Dupain-Cheng just a few hours ago that she would be mostly-naked on her back with a tipsy Adrien Agreste running his tongue down her body, she would have just awkwardly laughed it off.

In this moment, though, she would not have had the breath to do so. 

 

* * *

 

It had all started about a week before their high school graduation. After consulting a very flustered Marinette about the idea, Alya had sent a message to the group chat they shared with the boys they still shared classes and late night conversations with.

> _Parents out of town starting Friday. I got hella grad $$$ and a Pinterest board full of cutesy cocktail ideas. Come over and celebrate properly that night? ;)_

Nino's reply had come lightning-fast with “Good shit” along with a string of emojis, breaking Marinette's “no memeing in the group chat” rule. Adrien was next, reporting that he could be over when his photoshoot came to a close.

“Why do I have to reply to it? You're literally right next to me! And this is way too flirty,” Marinette had asked her bespectacled friend.

“Just trust me!” Alya had replied with a wink, giving Marinette her phone back with a message typed up and unsent.

Marinette checked it once more, held her breath, and hit “send.”

> _Looking forward to it, studs ;)_

 

Thus, a series of half-truths and promises of good choices were made to parents across Paris. Yes, of course there will be adult supervision; no, there won't be any boys there; Nino is going to Adrien's, and Nathalie, would you put “Adrien → Nino's” into your schedule for that night; of _course_ there isn't going to be any alcohol.

Just a couple of days after receiving their diplomas, the quartet had gathered back at one of their favorite hangout spots – the basement of Alya's house. Furniture was pushed to the sides of the room to make space for an ordered chaos of blankets and pillows in the center. The surround-sound system provided upbeat background music thanks to Nino's phone, which took its usual spot connecting with the AUX cord. The counter of the kitchenette was spattered with colorful bottles of mixers and liquors, ready to be crafted into fruity cocktails.

Marinette flopped down onto one of the couches enclosing the veritable nest of blankets gathered from every room in the house. Settling in, she surveyed the room. The blonde boy – well, man – who had been the object of her affection for so long was busying himself setting down his overnight bag and rummaging through it. As they had all grown up, his shoulders had broadened, his golden hair (which he occasionally kept held back in a ponytail) had grown a bit shaggier as modeling trends had demanded, and he had shot up another half a foot in height. Most noticeable, though, was his jawline. _Good lord, his jawline._ The edges of his face could cut diamonds, as far as she could tell. Just as she felt the familiar sensation of her pulse starting to quicken at the sight, she jumped at the sudden sensation of the sinking of the cushion next to her, inadvertently letting out a small yelp.

“Whoa Mari, everything good? You seem higher-strung than Jagged Stone's guitar in a hotboxed case tonight,” greeted Nino. Seeing her sigh of relief, he extended his hand towards her, offering her one of the two beverages he was holding. “Here. This'll help calm your nerves.”

Cautiously, she took the glass from him, observing its contents. A gradient of red settled near the bottom of the crystal cup, with fresh mint leaves and lime wheels held in place by ice. “Um...what is it?”

“A raspberry mojito!” answered Alya cheerfully from behind the bar. “And that's just the beginning. I have all kinds of things in store for tonight!” She carefully positioned a spring of mint into her own glass before pointing her phone at her creation. The familiar sound of the shutter went off, securing the drink a permanent place on her Instagram wall. “And the usual water on the rocks with a lemon slice for you, Mr. Agreste?” she joked as the man in question came up to the counter.

“Actually,” he said, the slightest hint of mischief in his voice, “why don't you mix one of those up for me too? It's a special occasion, after all.”

Alya raised an eyebrow, smirking as she began pouring out the ingredients. “Ooh, look at you, all grown up and partying like the rest of the cool kids. Don't worry, I won't make yours quite as strong,” she assured him.

“I appreciate it.” He turned around, acknowledging the pair on the couch. “Hey guys, how's it going? Does it feel good to be done with high school?”

Even though it had been years since they had first met, Marinette couldn't help but feel her face flush at his attention. “O-Oh, it's excellent! Honestly, there's not too many better feelings in the world. I mean, that I've experienced. Well, not that I've experienced that many things, since, you know, we're just eighteen, and- oh!” A short buzz of her phone interrupted her rambling to alert her to a new message, and she narrowed her eyes at the familiar name on the screen.

> _Bet he could make it feel even better ;D_

Adrien laughed in agreement as Marinette shot a glare at her red-headed friend. “Yeah, it's quite a relief for me too! It felt like quite a long time coming.”

Before Alya could even begin to type out her next innuendo, Marinette quickly raised her glass. “To all of us, then! And to finally being done.”

“I can drink to that!” agreed Nino, clinking his class to hers. “To graduating!”

In unison, they all took the first sip of what would be many drinks to come that evening. The sweetness of the simple syrup masked most of the taste of the alcohol, Marinette happily noticed, and the fresh raspberries added a delicious tartness that helped it go down even more smoothly. It was only on rare occasions that she partook this way, so anything to make the process easier was always very welcome.

“Oh man Alya, these are off the hook! You sure bartending isn't next on your agenda?” Nino took another sip of his drink, seemingly only pausing to compliment his friend.

A devious smirk appeared on her face, one that Marinette was all too familiar with. The fire that had sparked in Alya's eyes had never meant anything but trouble. “Actually, I have something else planned first! Something a bit more...immediate.” She swiped and tapped on the screen of her phone before turning it to show everyone a freshly-downloaded app.

“Oh, Alya...” Marinette sighed. The two buttons on the screen displayed two options, both of which filled her with equal parts excitement and dread.

The redhead took her drink in her other hand, walking over to join the rest of the group. “That's right! It's time for a rousing game of _Truth or Dare_!”

Marinette took another gulp of her beverage. She had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

 


	2. Do I Wanna Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rules are established and drinks are out. Let the games begin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends, I'm so sorry about the huge wait time! I'll try to get the next chapter up less than eleven months from this one this time, since I have free time now! Enjoy. :)

Alya cleared off a space in the center of the blanket pit and set down an empty bottle on its side. Sitting down on the floor, she motioned for the others to do the same. “C'mon! Circle up, everyone.”

After exchanging a glance, Marinette and Nino followed her lead, situating themselves on pillows on the ground. Marinette sat across from Alya, who gave her a grin and a thumbs up as Adrien settled in between them.

“It's been quite a bit since played Truth or Dare!” he remarked. “Actually, I'm not sure that I've ever gotten the chance to. Would someone mind explaining the rules?”

Alya was more than happy to comply. “Of course! First, you spin the bottle, and the player it lands on chooses between a truth and a dare. I grabbed an app, so we don't have to worry about thinking of the challenges ourselves unless we happen to come up with a really good one. Once the question is answered or the dare is completed, that player spins the bottle, and the process starts all over.”

“What about vetoes and switches?” Marinette interjected. God knows that these two components had come in very handy for her in previous games that she had played with her best friend during girl's nights. Why the question “who in our class would you most like to kiss” seemed to come up for her on every occasion was beyond her understanding, but everyone seemed to be very curious about it.

Alya looked thoughtful for a couple seconds. “I'll allow everyone to have one of each – non-transferable of course. A switch allows you to change from a truth to a dare or vice-versa if you don't like the challenge given to you, and a veto allows you to opt out of one round after hearing your challenge. Of course, if a more embarrassing question or dare comes up later and you're out of lifelines, then you're S.O.L. Use them wisely!”

“Any penalties for using them?” Adrien followed-up.

“Besides the requisite teasing,” she replied, “let's say you also have to finish your drink. And don't worry, there's plenty more where those came from!”

Nino rubbed his hands together in excitement. “Excellent! Could I have the first spin?”

“How could I say no to a face like that? Be my guest,” Alya replied, gesturing to the bottle.

After adjusting the brim of his cap, he gave the bottle a good twist. It spun around and around, not even losing momentum for a good few heart-pounding seconds. Eventually it slowed, taking its time in choosing the first player of the night. The neck of the bottle inched along for a few seconds before stopping entirely...

...pointing right at Marinette.

 _Of course_ , she thought, her pulse quickening as all eyes landed on her.

“Too bad, you usually have better luck than that!” quipped Adrien from beside her. He wasn't wrong, but her favorite lucky charm was hidden in her purse, which was in turn inside her overnight bag on the other side of the room. Since Hawkmoth had been arrested a couple of years ago thanks to the valiant efforts of Paris' two prized superheroes, Tikki had seen a lot less action. However, she was still more than happy to tag along with Marinette for her daily adventures and to take on the occasional criminal, as well as adventures with Chat Noir.

“No kidding,” she muttered, weighing her options. Since it was still so early into the night, she decided to go with what seemed like the safer bet. “I suppose I'll start with truth!”

With the touch of a button, Alya brought up the first question on her phone screen. “Ooh,” she squealed before bursting out into a peal of laughter. “So Marinette, after oral sex, do you usually prefer to spi-”

“Noooope nope nope nope! Nope, not happening. Goodness Alya, couldn't we like...turn the intensity down a bit?” She felt her face burning red as the boys on either side of her laughed. Although she knew they were laughing _with_ and not _at_ her, she couldn't help but feel caught off guard. The gang had grown much closer since middle school thanks to late-night hangouts and group-messaged heart-to-hearts, but some topics were still somewhat taboo. Not to mention the fact that her actual model of a crush was occupying the space right next to her...

Hazel irises turned in a mock eyeroll. “Oh, alright. I'll adjust the settings, we'll keep things PG13 for now. I'm turning up the heat a bit after a round or two, though!” With a couple of swipes and another push of the button, the next question popped up. “Okay, I think you'll like this one better. What is the most cringe-worthy nickname that anyone has ever given you?”

 _Bugaboo_ , her inner voice responded nearly immediately. Not only did it have to be a pun on her alter-ego's name, but the alliteration and the childishness of it just killed her. Actually, she could attribute most of the nicknames she had accumulated over the years to her partner in crime-fighting, embarrassing or otherwise. Of course, she wasn't about to throw out “L.B.” or “Lady B-Money” or “My Snug Little Bug in a Rug” as an answer when she still had her secret identity to protect. She wracked her brain for a different, less incriminating response.

“Well, sometimes when I'm babysitting Manon, she calls me Sugar Lips,” she said with a shrug and the straightest face she could manage.

“Sugar Lips?!” three voices responded in unison before erupting into laughter.

“I mean, it was because we were decorating cookies to put on display in the shop!” Marinette explained in an attempt to defend herself. “A bag of powdered sugar got tipped over and it kind of just got everywhere.” She paused for a second, attempting to ignore Alya's pressing stare and raised eyebrow, before collapsing under the pressure. “Okay, fine, I dropped it on the floor and it exploded! Are you happy?”

The answer was evidently yes, as Alya was starting to get red in the face, gasping from laughing too hard.

Marinette's face was red for an entirely different reason as she spun the bottle, trying to force a distraction. “Look, it's Nino's turn!”

“Alright, I guess I'm up, Sugar Lips,” said Nino, shooting a teasing look to his right. “I think I'll start with truth, too.”

Alya tapped on her phone screen. “What are you most looking forward to this year?” Her lips pursed as she read it aloud. “Aw, that couldn't be any less risque...”

“Okay then,” said Adrien, turning to Alya with a hint of mischief in his voice, “turn it up a level when it's my turn.”

“Ooh, pretty boy wants to play!” she teased. “Anyway, Nino?”

“I mean, she's right, it's kind of a boring question,” Nino conceded, laughing. “You guys could all probably guess, right?”

“Hmm, let me think,” said Marinette, a finger thoughtfully placed on her chin in a display of feigned ignorance. “It couldn't possibly have anything to do with a certain radio station, could it?”

The others laughed along as a smile cracked Marinette's act. Nino had, indeed, gotten a gig at a hit music radio station in their junior year of high school. Within a year, he had graduated from adding joke noises during interviews to DJing the evening hours. Now that he had finished high school and turned eighteen, his promotion to hosting the NRJ afternoon show was almost all he talked about lately.

“But seriously, how cool is it?” he asked the group excitedly. “It's one of the top music stations in Paris! And you'll hear me on it! Dropping sick beats and-”

“-and reporting live on Ladybug action as it happens!” finished Alya. She, too, would soon be working for NRJ. The station had often used the Ladyblog as a means to keep up to date on the adventures of Ladybug and Chat Noir, as it was the most reliable and in-depth source of information on the two. After several successful partnerships together, the station decided that it would be mutually beneficial to hire the blogger as an official and exclusive correspondent. This was in addition to not just maintaining her original claim to fame, but also part-time university classes in investigative journalism. “But don't worry, you can still expect regular updates on everyone's favorite superhero blog!”

“Who was ever worried?” Nino teased. Alya defiantly stuck out her tongue as he spun for the next turn. “Looks like a pattern's forming, Marinette!”

“Then I guess I'll have to continue it,” Marinette said boldly. “Truth.”

Alya had anticipated this and read the question off the screen, having already tapped the correct button. “Another tame one – what is your worst physical feature?”

Marinette took another sip of her drink, hoping it would give her some inspiration. “Um, I don't know...” She was, overall, pretty happy with how she had grown. Her raven blue hair still came down just past her shoulders, though she had added a couple simple styles into her regular rotation. Her figure had filled out slightly, and was kept fit by regular crime fighting, though she had not gotten much taller. One thing, she supposed, had always bothered her. “My freckles, I suppose.”

“Your freckles?” exclaimed Adrien next to her, much to her surprise.

“Well, yeah,” she said, touching the tiny spots on her face without realizing. “I've never been able to get rid of them.”

“I don't see why you would want to. They're very popular in the fashion photography industry right now. If you weren't off to school, I'd ask if you wanted to join me for a photo shoot sometime. Besides,” he broke eye contact briefly to look down at the way they decorated her cheeks and nose before looking back up, “I've always thought they look cute on you.”

If Marinette had glanced over at Alya right then, she would have seen her eyes alight in ways that usually only breaking Ladybug news made them. Unfortunately, this was not possible at the moment, as Marinette's gaze turned quickly away from Adrien and fell to her drink. The hand that had been grazing her freckles now froze on her cheek, obscuring how red her face was now becoming. “Th-Thanks,” she muttered, and gave the bottle a clumsy spin with her other.

The bottle did not spin for long, thanks to the way Marinette had fumbled it. To her horror, it rotated once, twice, and almost once more...

...and stopped, pointing directly at Adrien.

“Alright, I've been looking forward to this! Truth, if you please, Alya,” he said, nodding to her.

“Just remember, you requested this,” warned Alya. Her eyes lit up as she tapped her screen, and she read the question through a barely-contained grin. “So, Adrien – describe, in detail, your first kiss!”

Marinette, who had been savoring a slow sip of her raspberry mojito, coughed as some of it made its way down her windpipe.

The blonde took a swig of his own beverage before screwing up his handsome face in thought. “Does it have to be like, a romantic kiss?”

“Obviously!” answered Alya. “What else would it be?”

“I mean,” he continued, “I've had to do some stuff like that for photo shoots before. Not like, with tongue or anything, but I guess it would count as kissing.”

 _He_ guesses _it would count? Well, was it kissing or wasn't it?!_ Marinette, red in the face but no longer coughing, looked over to Alya for answers, who shot her an excited wink but offered no help.

“Anyone really cute?” pressed Nino, eagerly leaning in towards him.

“I mean, models...” offered Adrien, as if that were explanation enough in itself.

Marinette's heart dropped into her stomach.

“...but none of them were my type,” he finished.

Marinette's heart leapt back up into her throat and stuck.

“No wonder you were so ready to pick truth, you've got nothing to confess!” cried Nino despairingly. “You'll be in the clear even when the really juicy questions come out.”

Adrien laughed, setting down his drink and making to spin for the next turn. “Then I guess we'll just have to get to the juicy questions and find out!”

“Wait just a minute, mister,” interrupted Alya, placing her hand on his just in time to stop him from spinning the bottle. “If _literal models_ 'aren't your type,' then who could possibly stand a chance of winning the heart of Adrien Agreste?”

He hesitated. “Well, that's, um...”

Marinette could not have raised her eyebrows higher in interest and surprise if she wanted to. She watched Adrien fumble, flustered, his hand trapped under Alya's whose was frozen with resolve that matched her expression. She was only tangentially aware of Nino leaning in even closer to listen, and realized she had been doing the same.

“Yes?” Alya asked, an eyebrow raised.

“That's...” he continued, stalling for time. “That's...not the question you originally asked! I may be new at this, but it is only one per turn, right?”

Alya's expression remained unchanged as she surveyed him. After a moment, she nodded. “Damn, you're right...”

Marinette released a breath she didn't even realize she had been holding. Was the feeling now coursing through her, replacing and ridding her anxiousness, one of relief? Or disappointment? She caught Alya's eye. Trying to communicate her intentions silently, she gestured toward the kitchen by nodding ever so slightly toward it.

Alya nodded back and stood up. “Hey Marinette, come with me for a refill?”

“Certainly,” Marinette followed.

Unfortunately, Nino was too quick on the draw and glanced from Marinette's glass to Alya with a mischievously knowing look. “A refill on the three sips she's taken so far?”

“Yes indeed!” She took Marinette's hand and led her into the kitchen without missing a beat. After reaching the counter farthest away from the living room, she whirled around and pretended to start on another drink. “What's up?” she asked, speaking softly so as to not be heard over the music playing from the other room.

Marinette opened her mouth to speak, but only squeaked as she tried to find the words.

Alya took a guess while she watched her friend falter. “Is it the questions?”

“Yes!” she finally spoke, in a voice a bit higher-pitched than she had intended. The boys glanced over from the floor of the living room, then turned back to their own conversation.

“I think they've been a lot of fun so far! What if I asked you about _your_ first kiss?” Alya wondered aloud, an eyebrow raised.

“Well, I'm counting on you _not_ doing that, as you know damn well it hasn't happened yet.”

“Then it looks like you and Mr. Model have more in common than you thought!” Alya could barely contain herself. “And trust me, Marinette,” she continued, taking her best friend's hand, “I'm going to change that. For _both_ of you.”

With a wink, she flounced off to the living room, taking Marinette along.


	3. Seven Minutes in Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would a slumber party fic be without seven minutes in heaven? Not something that would go on Quizilla, and not something that I could allow in this house which I built with my own two hands.

After glasses were refilled, albeit a bit more sloppily, everyone resumed their places on pillows on the floor. Alya, Marinette noticed, seemed to be sitting just a bit closer to Nino than she had been originally. The curious expression on her face was completely undisguised – Marinette was very familiar with it, having seen the smirk and the spark in her eyes as the up-and-coming journalist pressed Ladybug for details on her exploits and relationship with Chat Noir. “So, pretty boy,” she started, grabbing the bottle in the center and pointing the neck directly at Adrien, not bothering to spin it first. “Truth or dare?”

Adrien gave her a quizzical look. “Truth, I suppose?” Although not well-versed on the rules of the game, as far as he had picked up so far, this move was highly unorthodox. The phone, with a question-generating app pulled up, was still in Alya's back pocket.

“I'm sure I'm not alone in saying I'm just _dying_ to know...” she started.

Marinette may have imagined Alya's hazel eyes glancing over at her, but she doubted it.

“...what is your ideal girl like?”

This time, Marinette just rolled her eyes. _Of course this question was bound to resurface._

“And if I refuse to answer?” Adrien responded cooly.

“Then you have to use your pass and finish your one-shot mojito and probably feel it for the rest of the night.” Although Alya had been considerate in preparing the lightweight's drink, the rules of the game remained the same.

He looked down into the beverage in question and watched the ice and mint swirl around idly as he thought. One girl, of course, came immediately to mind. Always quick to jump to action, an awesome sense of responsibility, and with sharper wits than anyone he had ever met – Ladybug, in his mind, could be described as nothing less than “ideal.” She had occupied a heart-shaped spot in his mind and a collage on his computer desktop since the day he had met her, both of which had only expanded with time. This was not to mention other things that tended to expand when he found himself alone and thinking about her. He glanced back at his bag, which was mercifully still despite containing his millennia-old snarkmaster of a kwami who would certainly have had something to say about the subject. _He's going to give me hell later,_ Adrien thought bemusedly. Plagg was sure to recount every bit of conversation back at home – at least, the more incriminating parts.

“In _graphic_ detail, of course,” Alya specified, interrupting his train of thought.

“Graphic detail, huh...” he repeated flatly. The image that formed in his mind was crystal clear, but so was the glass that was dripping condensation into his palm. Picturing the hero who so often visited his daydreams, he took a deep, thoughtful breath, then downed the cocktail. Coughing and sputtering as the rum at the bottom of the drink hit the back of his throat, he slammed the cup down on the carpet in front of him. Looking around, not a single one of his friends' mouths wasn't open in surprise. He regained his breath. “Someone even more beautiful than a supermodel, I suppose.”

The other three groaned in unison. Alya took the empty glass and got up to refill it in a huff. “Well played, Agreste. But I _will_ find out. I do have my ways.”

Nino shot his best friend a warning look. “She means it,” he mouthed at him silently.

Marinette, on the other hand, was lost in her own world. It certainly would have been nice to know the kind of girl that Adrien could find himself falling in love with. With any luck, the girl of his dreams would be equal parts crafty and clumsy, but she somehow doubted that this was the case.

“Alright, since He-Who-Only-Likes-Elevens is being such a smartass, why don't we have him spin?” Alya flopped back down onto her pillow and handed the model his new drink, only spilling a bit. This did not seem like a revolutionary idea to the more sober Marinette, who wordlessly noted that it was Adrien's turn to spin anyway, nor did those two things really have anything to do with each other. Nevertheless, Adrien gave the bottle a sharp spin and watched it slow to point at Nino.

“Dare,” he chose immediately, his brow furrowed and his grin wide with determination.

Alya tapped the screen to bring up the next question, then failed to conceal the hint of a smile that twitched at the corner of her mouth. “Seven Minutes in Heaven: Spend no more and no less than seven minutes in a closet with a random player.” She looked up at Nino. “Looks like you have to spin for it. Almost a shame,” she added under her breath.

Marinette tilted her head. Wondering if she had heard correctly, she looked around. Her heart leapt into her throat as her eyes caught Adrien's, who shared her look of confusion. Heat rose to her face as she quickly looked away.

“It's in Lady Luck's hands, then,” Nino replied noncommittally.

Marinette's heart kept pounding in her throat as she watched the bottle spin. _If it does land on Alya,_ she thought, _Adrien and I will be out here alone together!_ Every possible scenario raced through her mind like a movie reel. _What if we don't have anything to talk about? What if I'm tipsier than I think and I say something stupid? Or confess to him? Or tell him about the photo collage on my comp-_

“Lucky you, Marinette!” came Nino's voice from beside her. She had not processed the fact that the bottle had already stopped and was pointing directly at her. “You ready for the best seven minutes of your life?”

The next thing she knew, Marinette was being helped up to her feet by Nino's guiding hand. His trademark bracelets brushed her wrist, quite a sight next to his t-shirt and pajama pants. Alya stood up, leading the way to a coat closet down a short hallway by the stairs. “He's not kidding,” she laughed as she opened a wooden door. “That's all he's gonna need.”

The two watched as Alya pulled a long string hanging down from the center of the ceiling and a single dim bulb filled the wood-paneled room with light. Thick winter jackets of all sizes and colors rested on hangers on the left, below a higher shelf that also reached all the way to the back wall. Various storage containers and boxes were settled on the floor on the right, with board games and extra blankets and pillows on the shelf above. Marinette noted with relief that although there wouldn't be a lot of room to move around, the space was at least large enough for the both of them to fit comfortably without being forcibly squished together.

Alya stepped aside and jokingly bowed towards them as they passed her on their way in. With a wink, she closed the door. “Don't have _too_ much fun, clock's ticking!”

Marinette didn't know where to start. It was not exactly the first time she had been alone together with a boy – it wasn't even the first time she had been alone with Nino in particular – but the circumstances were certainly new to her. Were they supposed to talk? What about? This seemed like an easier question for her to ponder than the obvious alternative. One question that she was genuinely curious about came to mind. “So, are you and Alya-”

“There's no time, Marinette! We've only got seven minutes!"

“Wh...huh?” She sputtered, taken aback at the wild look in his eye. His hands nearly brushed against her in the small space as he gestured animatedly with his hands.

“We don't have time for that! And we're running out as we speak! You wanna know how to win Adrien's heart, right?”

“I- _what?!”_ Never in her life had she ever told anyone but her best friend about her crush on Paris's favorite young supermodel. She could have sworn she felt her soul depart from her body, flicking her off on its way out. “How-”

“Yes, I know, it's obvious to literally anyone with eyes, and no, I haven't told anyone else despite that, but- hey, focus!” The sharp sound of his fingers snapping in front of her face brought Marinette's slackened jaw back up to its proper place and her furrowed brow back up in surprise. “That's not the point, Marinette, the point is that I want it to happen too but it can't without you taking the initiative. Are you ready to make this work?”

This dump of information, along with Nino's enthusiastic-bordering-on-crazy tone, was hitting her like a ton of bricks. _But_ , she thought, _Nino's never let me down before._ “I...suppose so?”

If at all possible, his face seemed to brighten up even more. “Excellent! Now first things first.” It almost seemed as if his golden eyes were looking through her. “Is the type of girl he's into. He didn't say the kind of girl he usually goes for because his type is just 'superhero!'”

“Superhero?” Marinette repeated, bewildered. Like...a comic book character? If the object of her affections was the type who only fell for fictional characters, she would need a drink much stronger than the one Alya had prepared for her. “Like Wonder Woman?”

“While I won't deny the reality of Adrien's infatuation with many a sailor-uniform-clad-space-warrior anime girl, his real tastes are a baby step closer to the realm of possibility. Think _very_ close to home.”

A wild idea occurred to her very briefly, but she dismissed it just as quickly. _Close to home?_ She pondered over what help a hint like that could be. “O-Okay?”

Her look of confusion must have been plain as day to Nino, who put her hands on her shoulders to get his message across. “I'm only telling you this because – no offense, Marinette – you can both be hella obtuse. He likes Ladybug. Be more like Ladybug!”

“What?!”

The sound bounced off the walls of the enclosed space, and if Alya's and Adrien's ringing laughter was any indication, probably down the hallway as well.

“I know, I know,” Nino said in what was obviously a way meant to reassure her. “As far-fetched as it is unachievable. I think it's gotta be the skin-tight suit, there's no way he doesn't have some kinda kink about that.”

Marinette could feel herself reeling. There were so many questions that she wanted to ask him, so many answers she needed but that might complicate things further, that they all came out in unfinished parts. “Since when does he- how did you- why is _she_ \- how do I-”

“All in good time! Which, again, we don't have right now.” He pointed down to his watch. Even if Marinette had seen its display, it would not have helped much since she hadn't exactly been paying attention to the start time, but a couple minutes had certainly passed. “Since obviously we can't just throw a Ladybug suit on you, you'll have to learn her ways. Whenever you're not sure how to proceed, ask yourself: What would Ladybug do?”

 _What would Ladybug do?_ The question should have been so easy, and the answer so natural. But this situation was one that not even Ladybug would have been prepared for. For the few and far-between encounters she had shared with Adrien while transformed, she had never considered the possibility of him crushing on her, mask and all. Of all the clumsy and misguided attempts at flirting she had to watch Chloe inflict on him, of all the beautiful models she had conveniently clipped out of magazines featuring his image, she never imagined that her greatest competition would be herself. She swallowed hard and nodded curtly. “Okay! I will.”

“Excellent!” He removed his hands from her shoulders, having said everything he needed to. “And since he don't have much time...” He raised an eyebrow. “Wanna make things interesting?”

All she could do was laugh in equal parts surprise and relief to be off the previous subject. “I think I know just what you have in mind.” She slammed the wall with her hand with a reverberating _bang_.

He immediately followed suit, rhythmically pounding the wall with one hand. “Oh, Marinette!” he fake-moaned, smiling as he watched her barely stifle a laugh. “I'm _so_ glad we're finally alone!”

“Ah, don't stop!” she said in her best porn star imitation. “You're so good at that!”

Footsteps were approaching distantly at a pace just under a run. As their tempo increased, so too did the pounding on every wall of the coat closet.

“Time's _up_!”

With a crashing sound, the closet door slammed open, framing Alya. Her shoulders slumped as the surprisingly normal scene in front of her set in. “Oh.”

Nino was the first out the door. “What were you expecting?” he asked, not trying to hide his smirk.

Alya seized him by the arm. “What exactly did you ask her to do in there?” she snapped, ignoring his question.

Following behind them and feeling the effect of the alcohol more strongly as she walked, Marinette laughed. “Nothing at all! He was just telling me about his fantasy romance with a future coworker.”

“Were you two flirting in there?” Alya asked doubtfully. “Or worse...scheming?”

“Scheming? Me and Marinette? We've never schemed a day in our lives,” Nino answered almost convincingly.

“As if I'd believe that, you both learned from the best.”

As everyone took their seats again, Marinette's mind wandered back to try to absorb all the information. When had he started liking her? The memory of the first time she had met him as Ladybug, twirling her yo-yo as their eyes locked through his car's window, was crystal clear in her mind. Had it been right then? He had to have known about her before then. Maybe it was shortly thereafter? Or was his infatuation only a very recent development?

“Hey, earth to Marinette,” came Nino's voice from beside her, snapping her out of her train of thought. “You still basking in our afterglow or are you gonna pick?” He gestured down at the bottle in the middle, which was now pointing at her.

“Oh!” She hadn't been paying attention at all when the others had started the game. As she began to panic, Nino's advice rang in her head. _What would Ladybug do?_ Probably take a chance, she thought, and take advantage of her lowered inhibitions. “I'll take a dare.”

Alya tapped a button and read aloud. “'Dance to a song of another player's choice for the full duration.' That's not too bad, right?”

“Well...” Marinette faltered. Truthfully, she had never really danced before. Even school dances where Alya had fussed over doing her makeup and finding the perfect dresses always seemed to be interrupted by akuma attacks that left her running towards responsibility like Cinderella from the ball. “I think I might actually need to pass. I'm really clueless when it comes to dancing.”

“Aw,” lamented Alya. “And here I was looking forward to seeing that. I could put on something easy like The Funky Chicken!”

“I am _especially_ not doing The Funky Chicken.”

“Alright, alright,” Alya conceded, raising her hands in defeat. “But you know the rules; drink up!”

“Wait!”

The three of them turned to face Adrien, who up until this outburst had been remarkably quiet this whole round. His face was tinged with pink, and his next words came with just the hint of a slur. “If you don't know how, I can show you.”

There was a long silence before they all spoke at once.

“ _You_ know how to dance?” Nino asked incredulously.

“You can _show her how to dance_?” Alya chimed in from beside him, her face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning.

“You're serious?” Marinette asked in disbelief.

The blonde looked around at all of them. “Um...yes?”

Marinette felt the heat rise to her face again. “Wh-What do you have in mind?”

Adrien stood up. He turned and took Marinette's hand in his own, wordlessly lifting her up as well. “Well, I can't exactly show you any club moves, but I do know a bit of ballroom.”

At this point, Marinette was not at all conscious of the reactions of her two friends below. Nothing existed but the man in front of her and the gentle way his hand was holding and warming hers. “You're kidding.”

“You wouldn't believe the things my dad thought were necessary.” He raised their hands above their head and lightly turned her wrist, twirling her around. He caught her by more firmly gripping her hand when she tripped, flustered at the move. “Maybe the waltz is a little too complicated, but I could teach you the East Coast Swing.”

Below, Alya whispered to Nino, who nodded and put on [an upbeat jazz tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGbwe0qcW5g). 

Before she could process what was happening, he had pulled her closer and taken her other hand between them. Only their fingers connected them, and his gentle pressure on hers guided her to her right.

“Okay,” he said, moving to the beat of the music. “You'll go left, then right, then- oh, wait,” he faltered, stumbling a bit. “No, sorry, that's _your_ right, then left, then backstep.”

Bewildered, Marinette followed along. After a couple of steps, she found herself getting the hang of the footwork. A step to the right, then to the left, then back on her right foot and forward again – the pattern became second nature soon enough.

“That's it!” Adrien exclaimed. “That's the basic step. Now that you've got that...” He raised their hands over their heads and turned her wrist just as before when they were stationary. This time, Marinette did not lose her balance, but stayed in rhythm and twirled around tightly at his guidance. A laugh of surprise and delight bubbled out of her. “We can do fancier moves like that.”

“Wow,” she marveled aloud before she could stop herself. Her dance partner clearly had quite a bit of experience; although she had never danced a day in her life, the moves seemed to come naturally with the subtle touches and pushes that came from his leading. He dropped her hands and switched so that his right hand was holding hers instead of her left. He moved past her, then as they threatened to separate, caught her fingers and used them to pull her back in front of him. _I should listen to Nino's advice more often_ , she thought in amusement.

“Think you're ready for a more difficult move?” he asked, forcing her eyes upward towards him instead of letting her continue to watch her own feet.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked, repeating the basic step with him as they conversed.

“Kind of a spin. I'd raise my arm and you'd step under it, then my arm comes back down around you. Then the next measure we come out of it.” Her shocked expression did not go unnoticed. “Sorry, is that too much?”

“No, no, I'll try it!” She focused even more on keeping the pace. The song, she noted bittersweetly, was beginning to come to a close.

After a couple measures, he raised his arm as promised. She spun effortlessly into the crook of his elbow to the beat, and next thing she knew, his other arm came down, wrapping her in what was nearly an embrace. The warmth from his arm on the small of her back sent the most pleasurable tingle from the base of her spine all throughout her body. Looking up, the emerald of his eyes was all she could see. She knew them well from years of admiration – but had they always been so stunningly green? Had they always had those tiny flecks of gold dancing and glittering now in the light, swirling around like the thoughts in her head? Swirling around like...

...like she suddenly was?

As Adrien pulled her out of the turn, her legs didn't follow and tangled with his. She twisted and fell, a brief wave of panic striking her before she stopped falling as suddenly as she had started. The scene unfolding before her was one she had dreamed of many times – particularly after long nights of shoujo anime. But for all she imagined it, she never imagined it _actually_ happening. Her heart stuck hard in her throat. Here she was, in the arms of Prince Fucking Charming, tipsier than she had ever been in her fantasies, held low in a deep dip. He leaned in towards her, and she could feel his breath hot against her cheek. “What's up, Sugarlips?”

If her soul hadn't left her body before, it certainly had just now.

He laughed as he helped her back up to her feet. He twirled her around one last time, not to the tempo but to her own pace, as the song ended. He beamed as Marinette regained her balance. “That wasn't so bad, right?”

Her burning face was buried in her free hand. “I fell,” she said shortly, unable to think of any other words.

Just as he had helped her up before, he guided her back down onto her pillow. “No, no, that was my fault! Besides, it was adorable.”

 _Adorable_ , her brain replayed. _Adorable. It was adorable_. Alya pointed at her phone across from her, then shot her a thumbs up. She could only assume that her best friend had taken the liberty of filming the scene, failed spin and all. For once though, her sense of gratitude overrode her anxiety. Spinning the bottle once more, his words kept cycling through her head. _Adorable._

The mantra was only interrupted by Alya's whoop as the bottle slowed to point at her. “Well, if Marinette is doing dares now, I suppose I need to keep up!” Alya's intoxication was only betrayed by the raised volume of her voice. “Will you do the honors?” she asked, handing her phone to Nino.

“Only if I can make it R-rated,” he replied, taking the phone and raising an eyebrow.

“Do your worst,” Alya shot back with a smile.

With a couple taps, Nino had changed the settings and brought up the next dare. He couldn't stifle the excitement in his voice as he read it aloud. “Race with the player across from you to strip down to your underwear...” he said, ignoring Marinette's gasp at her position.

 

“...and only the winner gets to redress.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be sexy stuff next chapter I promissseeeee. Not SEX stuff, but sexy stuff. Thanks for bearing with me on my first slow burn! I love you guys <3


	4. Fraise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strip-themed dare leads to a somewhat sticky situation.

“So just so I'm completely clear on this,” Marinette began. Next to her stood Alya, wearing a tank top, long patterned pajama pants, and a determined grin. “Whoever _isn't_ down to their underwear first has to stay in whatever they're wearing when the other person is?”

“That's a long way of saying 'it's a race,' but yeah,” Nino replied from the floor, nodding. He had switched the music back from jazzy swing to the usual modern music. “And just until everyone else has taken a turn.”

Marinette looked down at her own attire, comparing it to Alya's. Since she had already changed into comfortable sleeping clothes, they almost matched. However, Marinette inwardly lamented, her short-sleeved black pajama top was fastened with small white buttons down the center that matched the trim. Her long pink and white pants would be easier, as they were held up by a drawstring that could be untied quickly. Perhaps it would be better, she thought, if her favorite lucky charm Tikki were here to accompany her. Ladybug's luck had always seem to make up for Marinette's extreme lack thereof. _Undressing as Ladybug?_ She imagined, smiling. _Would I die of embarrassment before it killed Adrien or would I get to see it happen?_

“Hope you wore cute panties today!” Alya teased, giving Marinette a similar once-over. “You'll be showing them off pretty soon.”

“Don't worry, I _did_ wear them today. Unlike you that time at the lake.”

“And you certainly didn't complain. On your mark?” Alya turned to Nino, who nodded and counted down from three on his fingers.

On “go,” chaos erupted. The flutter of Alya's tank top as it fell to the ground almost immediately after didn't distract Marinette's fingers from racing to complete their task. Button after button separated under them, and she noticed delightedly out of the corner of her eye that Alya was struggling to get her pants off, losing her balance as she wrestled with them. She was still falling behind, though; having to undo each fastening individually was costing her precious time. At last the front opened entirely and she shrugged it onto the floor. She thanked every god she could think of that she had worn a lacy black bralette under her PJs in anticipation of Alya creating this kind of mischief. She only wished that the blue boyshort-style panties had some semblance of matching it, or at least weren't sporting a multicolored heart pattern.

Her eyes wandered back to Alya, trying to avoid looking at or even thinking about Adrien sitting a few feet away. Her friend had stepped out of the first leg of her own pajama pants and was tipsily laughing as she tripped over the other. Marinette hastily untied the strings holding up the waist of her pajamas, barely aware of the cheering happening below. As quickly as she could, she pulled them down her legs, managing to pull off her left sock on her way down.

“Time!” Adrien's voice rang out, echoing in the room.

Marinette looked up in horror. The patterned pajama pants on the ground in front of her were not her own. Beside her, Alya stood proud with her hands on her hips, a sports bra hugging her breasts that almost matched the black panties she was wearing. Below, Marinette's legs were frozen where they had been, one foot bare and the other still cozy in a sock and tangled in the mess of her pajama pants on the floor. Inwardly cursing, she made a mental note to wear something less complicated to remove the next time she attended an Alya Party. Looking back up, her eyes met Adrien's for the briefest moment, and she felt her face turn what must have been an impossibly bright shade of pink as she looked away. Her shoulders were bare, the black strapless bralette covering her breasts like a lacy censor bar. She bent down, going to put her bare foot through the empty leg of her pajama pants, when Alya's voice interrupted her.

“Hold it right there missy, you remember the rules. They ended up around your ankle, they're staying around your ankle.”

Marinette scowled, reminded herself that it was only until everyone else had taken a turn and not the entire night. She grabbed her clothes and sat back down on her pillow, her pants awkwardly trailing under her, and took a much-needed sip of her beverage. It cooled her even as the alcohol singed the back of her throat, and she was thankful – although the circumstances were not quite as she imagined, she never in her wildest dreams thought she would be even semi-comfortable half-naked in front of her model of a crush.

The game continued after Alya redressed and sat down across from her. She spun the bottle and it once again stopped pointing at Marinette.

 _Just my luck_ , she thought bitterly. Although the bottle meant that the turn order was random, she couldn't help but feel that her signature bad luck was at play. She held tight to Nino's advice. _What would Ladybug do?_ “Dare.”

Alya tapped her phone and gleefully read the next dare. “'Let another player draw on your body using whatever they like.' Ooh, can I?”

“Come on Alya, we should spin for it!” Nino insisted. “It only seems fair, especially after our intimate closet moments.”

“Wait, Alya,” Marinette interrupted. “What...what exactly did you have in mind? Materials-wise? I mean, if it's going on my body...”

The redhead wordlessly stood up and ran to the fridge in the kitchen nearby. She returned moments later with a pink plastic bottle bearing a colorful label featuring a juicy-looking strawberry atop a bowl of vanilla ice cream. Snapping open the top, she poured a bit of equally pink liquid onto her fingertip.

“Alya, are you- mmm!” Marinette's sentence came to an abrupt halt as her mouth closed around Alya's finger. The sugary sweet taste spread along her tongue as Alya leaned in, speaking quietly into her ear.

“Just trust me, I have a plan!” She pulled her finger out with a soft _pop_.

“You'd better,” Marinette hissed back just as softly.

As panicked as she was expecting to feel in this situation, Marinette was surprised at how calm she was staying. Alya's promise brought her comfort, as did the reassuring look in her friend's hazel eyes. She had, after all, pledged to end Marinette's kiss-free streak, and Adrien's while she was at it. At her friend's urging, Marinette moved her pillow and laid down on the floor so that it still supported her neck. The soft fibers of the carpet tickled her bare back, and her pants were sprawled out and half on. Alya knelt beside her, surveying her body like an artist deciding where to start a painting. It wasn't too much different, she supposed.

“Come on, you're gonna make me nervous if you keep staring like that,” Marinette urged.

“No need to be shy, we're all friends here. Right, guys?” Alya glanced up, only to see both boys staring at the scene slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Adrien nodded, wordlessly closing his mouth and forcing a straight face.

Nino wasn't one to pretend. “Holy shit, we should play this more often!” he exclaimed, and was met with an elbow to the ribs from Adrien.

Alya rolled her eyes. “Just ignore them. You'd think they'd never seen a woman in her underwear once in their lives, right?” With that, she tipped the bottle against Marinette's collarbone on her left side. The pink syrup dripped out of the container to follow the path Alya drew down the slant of her neck towards her center. Marinette gasped as the cold sensation stopped briefly then started again, this time on the opposite side, dripping down her clavicle the same way. She looked up from the pillow to see Alya repeating the slow ritual a few inches down on either side, parallel to the lines she had drawn before, outlining the top of her modest breasts.

“Halfway there,” Alya reassured her with a wink, moving down along her body on the floor.

She tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder as the liquid trailed down her middle, dipping into her navel before stopping. Marinette swore she saw that familiar glint in Alya's eyes as she considered what remained of her canvas. The redhead smirked as she carefully outlined a heart below Marinette's navel, the point just barely above the waistline of her panties. While it wasn't actually an arrow, the combination of shapes might as well have been pointing directly between her legs.

“There,” Alya finished, re-capping the syrup bottle and getting up to admire her work. “My masterpiece is complete.”

Marinette should have felt more vulnerable than she did; tipsy, mostly naked, and spread out on the floor, covered in strawberry syrup while her friends looked on from above. In this moment, however, she felt herself almost glowing as warmth spread through her body until the cold of the sugary pink syrup was a pleasant tingle on her skin. It was only when Adrien spoke up that she realized any issue with her situation.

“You gonna stay down there all night? Or should one of us spin for you?” he teased, slurring slightly as he held eye contact with the raven-haired girl on the floor. She was torn at his unwavering glance; she couldn't decide whether she preferred his gentlemanly mannerisms or the idea of his eyes exploring her body.

“Oh, that won't be necessary,” Alya said, practically skipping back from the fridge. “It hasn't been your turn in a while, right, handsome?”

“I suppose so,” he said with the same skepticism that had tinged Marinette's voice before.

Alya knelt down and spun the neck of the bottle around with the finger that she had placed in the same girl's mouth. “Well, in that case...” She stopped it pointing at him. “Truth or dare?”

His skeptical look turned amused. “I'm guessing there's a correct answer?”

She didn't break eye contact.

The sharpness of her staredown broke through him, forcing him to concede. He did so with a smile. “Dare.”

Alya gestured at the work of art before her. “Clean her off.”

His blank smile remained unchanged. “With what?”

Nino snorted and turned away, covering his face. Marinette nearly sat up, but relaxed a bit at the sight of Alya's finger held up in a signal that commanded her to wait.

“Take your best guess.”

For the first time that Marinette could see, Adrien's eyes flitted to her body before quickly moving back up to meet Alya's. “You don't mean...?”

“You already used your free pass, Agreste,” Alya reminded him with a warning tone in her voice. “Will you stop hesitating, or are you going to use your second lifeline in a row?”

He laughed, and Marinette could not tell whether the pink on his cheeks was due to the alcohol or not. “No one's hesitating. Just figuring out my method.” Without another pause, he moved so that he was beside her in exactly the same way that Alya had been. “I guess the best way to do this would be...” With the same hindered grace that she had seen so much of just minutes before, he swung one leg over her torso so that he was straddling her hips. He looked down at her and leaned in, speaking softly. “Is this okay?”

Marinette opened her mouth to speak, but knew that if she tried to produce any words, she would fail. Instead, she nodded wordlessly. “Okay” did not even begin to describe it.

Adrien smiled at her confirmation, then looked down, deciding where to start. After a brief moment of deliberation, he leaned down to the same collarbone that Alya had started her first line on.

Another shudder wracked Marinette's body the moment she felt the hot, wet pressure of Adrien's tongue beside her neck. His soft, blonde hair brushed against her jawline as he followed the first line down, and for a moment she caught a whiff of his shampoo. _Something high end, no doubt_ , she found herself thinking, and giggled at both the thought and the tickling sensation as he pulled away.

He moved his head to her other side to trace down her other collarbone, and shifted his weight as he did so. This small movement made Marinette painfully aware of how he was sitting on her; his back was arched up, avoiding smearing the pink design on his own black t-shirt, and his knees on either side of her hips. He was sitting – and much to Marinette's chagrin, _moving_ – on top of her pelvis with his own. Willing the blood to stop rushing down to that area, she instead focused on the feeling of his tongue running down below her neck towards her center. It didn't help.

Returning to her other side, he started on the line of syrup above her breast. His hands slid down her sides as he did so, holding her still and himself steady, as he traveled down to just above her lacy black bralette. Instead of pulling back and switching sides as he had before once he had finished, he continued his path across, licking steadily to catch every drop as he completed the trail. Marinette watched as he surveyed his work; unsatisfied with some traces that he had left behind, he traced the same path slowly in reverse, lingering deliciously near the middle and looking up at her as he did so.

 _Yep_ , she thought, resigning herself to the sight before her. _This is how I die._

With the area above her bra as clean as it was going to get, he pulled away and shifted down so that his body was now resting comfortably between her spread knees. His hands firmly took hold of her hips, perhaps with just a bit more force than necessary. Not that she minded; quite the opposite, in fact. Although the direct pressure between her legs was eased without Adrien sitting directly on top of her pelvis, the way he was handling her body felt like something right out of her wildest fantasies. The roughness of his touch contrasted sharply with the gentle way his tongue pressed against her skin, this time going straight down her stomach. Just as the trail of syrup bottle had done a few minutes before, his tongue dipped into her navel on its way down, stopping just below it atop the outline of the heart. A small amount of syrup remained pooled in his wake. He came back up briefly, and much to Marinette's surprise, kissed the dip in her stomach, removing the leftover liquid.

From beside them, Nino's whoop of encouragement interrupted the steady beat of the music. “How bold,” Alya said under her breath.

Adrien appeared as if he'd been partially awoken from a trance at the sounds. He looked down at the (now syrup-free) spot on her body, then up into her eyes, an almost familiar nervous smirk on his face. “You good?” he mouthed soundlessly to her, evidently concerned that he had crossed some kind of line.

She nodded, wide-eyed. “Y-Yeah,” she managed to stammer once she remembered to breathe again.

The relieved smile twinkled even in his emerald eyes. He nodded back to her, then looked back down at his remaining task. All that was left was the carefully-drawn heart just above the waistline of her panties. Tightening his slackened grip on her hips with one hand, he slid the other under her, supporting her and holding her steady by the small of her back.

Although she had been foolishly trying to deny it to herself before, the hot surge of energy that seemed to shoot through her whole body at his contact was this time undoubtedly sexual. Another almost electric jolt shocked her as his tongue pressed against her body once again, looping around to trace the right side of the heart. She closed her eyes as they rolled back in pleasure that she was, at this point, desperately trying to repress. Inhaling deeply, she forced herself to open her eyes and watch him finish, determined not to lose herself completely.

He mirrored the action, cleaning off what should have been the last of the syrup as he licked the other half of the heart. As he pulled away, though, he smeared the point a bit, not just over her skin but onto the waistline of her panties. The hot pink contrasted the pale blue fabric, leaving an obvious stain. He quickly took his hand out from underneath her back and hooked a finger under the elastic, pulling the hem down just enough. The syrup had soaked through just a bit onto her skin, staining her in a similar way about a half an inch below the already low-rise cut of her underwear. He swirled his tongue around the spill, licking so dangerously close to the most sensitive part of her body. His lips pressed firmly against the area, looking up into her eyes as he did so.

The scene before her was nearly paralyzing. Her body, at least, was frozen in his hand, under his lips, stopped and enveloped so entirely by his presence and the glitter of his eyes. The only thing more she could hope for was that he would not notice the growing damp spot on the very panties his finger was pulling down. With a soft sound of separation, he let them go and took a soft breath in as he pulled up.

When he finally surfaced, his face was flushed and his lips pink with residual syrup. _If the roles had been reversed_ , Marinette caught herself thinking as she came out of her trance, _I would have to clean that off for him, wouldn't I?_ She caught his eye, and despite their intimate situation, this time he quickly looked away – was he thinking the same thing? Looking back up at Alya, she wondered whether the choice not to drip a bit of strawberry syrup onto her lips was an intentional one. Given her best friend's expression of pure and unencumbered delight, she could only assume so. Perhaps that initiative was one Alya expected her to take on her own. But as she watched Adrien's tongue dart over his lips, cleaning off the last drops, she couldn't help but wish she had the courage to take over for him.

A look of delighted realization suddenly lit up his face, and his laugh rang out musically. “I guess this makes _me_ Sugarlips now.”

Marinette laughed along, and she could feel whatever anxiety she had still been holding onto melt away as she did so. “I suppose so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! I forgot to say in the last few chapters that I would love to hear from you guys about any truths or dares you would like to see our crew do in future chapters. I'll credit you if I end up using yours, of course! Feel free to leave any such suggestions in the comments or message my Tumblr (I'm ChamomileTease there too). Thanks! <3


	5. Kwamversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette and Adrien return home after their first wild night together and must take care of the aftermath - Adrien with some bland food, and Marinette with some much-needed alone time.

Marinette woke up on the couch surrounded by pizza boxes. Looking around, she vaguely remembered the reason for the abundance from the night before.

The four of them were about to start the next round when they were interrupted by the doorbell. Alya went to answer it, and to everyone's surprise but her own, Alix was at the door on her rollerblades holding what could only be described as a tower of boxes.

“I totally forgot I ordered pizza!” Adrien exclaimed as Alya came downstairs with them. “This is so exciting!”

“But why did you get so many?” Marinette couldn't help but ask as they spread out the boxes before them on the floor, determining each one's contents.

“I called the place when you guys were in the closet, but we didn't know what you guys wanted so we just got a bunch,” the blonde had explained.

“We were in the closet for _seven minutes_!”

“But now it's a surprise for everyone!”

“It _did_ make sense at the time,” said Alya, backing him up.

Although it had been outrageous at the time, Marinette now giggled to herself at the story as she sat up and surveyed the room. Alya was sound asleep perpendicular to her on the other half of the large L-shaped couch, her glasses beside her on the nearby end table. The boys were also sleeping and splayed out on the floor just below, the pillows and blankets that had been their seating arrangements the night before messily arranged on and under them.

Careful not to disturb any of them, she tiptoed upstairs and showered in the bathroom nearest to Alya's room, washing off what was now an unpleasant stickiness from yesterday's syrup dare and perking her up from her amplified morning grogginess. She changed into fresh clothes from her bag, threw her hair up into a messy wet bun, and went to head back downstairs. A crashing noise from the kitchen made her change her path, and she was surprised to see Adrien standing over several colorful plastic cups on the floor, looking weary. She ran over, helping him collect them from the floor. “What are you doing up here, Adrien?”

“Water...” he croaked, leaning against the countertop. His hand came up, rubbing the bridge of his nose in pain as he closed his eyes.

She dived to grab his shoulder as he slid down the side of the counter and came to a rest on the floor. “Oh, Adrien...” As soon as she made contact, she jumped back, realizing what she had done. “I mean, uh...L-Let me get you something!” Rummaging through the fridge and then the cupboards, she then knelt beside him on the ground. She put two small red pills into his hand and unscrewed the cap of the sports drink she had retrieved. “Here, drink this,” she said, holding it to his lips. “It will help you recover more quickly than water. And take these, ibuprofen will help too.”

He did just as she asked. After he swallowed, he finally opened his eyes. Marinette's face was very near to his, studying him, her hand on his forehead to feel his heat. The look on her face wasn't the nervous smile he usually saw on her; it was much more business-like, more analytical, more like...

He stopped himself before he could finish the thought.

The sound of running water helped distract him. Marinette returned to his side once more with two wet hand towels and gently pressed one by the corner of his mouth. A sense of comfort and relief eased some of the unpleasantness he had been feeling like a weight lifting from his chest as she cleaned a bit of remaining pink syrup from his face. She dabbed at a couple other places, taking care not to touch his lips proper, before setting the damp cloth on the ground.

“Keep drinking that,” she urged as she pushed his fringe back with her hand. He complied obediently as she pressed the other cloth to his forehead, cooling what felt like his whole body at once. He set the drink down and looked back up at her. She didn't appear to notice, continuing to remove and replace the hand towel on both of his cheeks and down his neck before flipping it and setting it back against his forehead.

The determined look in her eyes made his cheeks flush hot again. He hoped she didn't notice, but with her focus aimed so singularly at his current condition, it did not get past her. “You're too kind,” he said quietly at last.

It was now her turn to blush, his sudden comment snapping her out of her concentration. She fumbled the cloth in her hand, almost dropping it at the compliment. “Oh, ah, I mean...th-that's what friends are for, right? Looking out for each other? I mean, we're friends, and I'm just looking out for you, and-”

With the way his head was pounding, he couldn't concentrate on exactly what her awkward rambling meant, and only caught bits and pieces of it. Instead, he was thinking of the way she had jumped into action, helping him without a trace of hesitation. His mind spiraled about this as he lost himself in the cool feeling of the wet cloth on his burning forehead. _She dropped everything just to help me._ His gaze fell to her lips, still moving quickly with stuttered words and looking so soft, so warm, so inviting. In fact, he thought, if he just tilted his head a bit...

She jumped with a yelp as his phone suddenly rang on the tile floor. The buzzing sound of the vibration, amplified as it slowly shuffled across the floor with each chime, stopped just as suddenly as Adrien groggily answered it. “Morning.” He closed his eyes, leaning back against the cabinet doors as the voice on the other hand spoke to him. He muttered a couple of half-hearted “okay”s followed by an almost grunted goodbye.

His eyes met hers again, and she looked at him expectantly. For what, he didn't want to assume, but he guessed answers. “My ride's here, Nathalie's picking me up. Thanks for all your help.”

To his surprise, Marinette wordlessly stood up, picking up the bottle and taking his hand to help him up slowly. “Any time,” she said, handing him his beverage.

He smiled, then quickly decided that wasn't enough. He took her into his arms in an embrace and held her close for just a moment. “And thank you for caring.”

 

* * *

 

The drive home with Nathalie behind the wheel went surprisingly fast, since Adrien managed to doze off a few times despite the trip being less than fifteen minutes total. When they returned, he thanked her as earnestly as his drained energy allowed. He did very much appreciate all she continued to do for him despite how complicated his home life had been over the past few years.

Nathalie's devotion to the Agreste family ran deeper than any media outlets had speculated it would. Instead of abandoning the PR ship that went down with Gabriel's arrest a couple years before, the assistant remained loyal, caring for Adrien in his father's absence. The Agreste empire, while still intact, would never be quite the same. It had become common knowledge that the world-renowned fashion designer had moonlighted as Hawkmoth to wreak havoc on the citizens of Paris in a desperate bid to obtain Ladybug and Chat Noir's miraculouses, artifacts that would grant him with more power still.

What was not common knowledge, however, was that his abandoned son was leading a double life of his own.

The young model in question had continued on the career path his father had set for him. Although initially he had not enjoyed being carted from photoshoot to photoshoot between school and home, he had come to love it over the years, especially in his father's absence. It was no longer a means to the end of pleasing his father, but something he finally held control over. Although not positive of how he wanted to continue in the fashion world now that he had finished high school, he was fairly set upon staying in Paris most of the time, only leaving internationally for brief periods so as to remain where the city needed him most as Chat Noir. There was even talk of Adrien moving into the world of acting, Nathalie had informed him with more excitement than he had ever seen on her when Gabriel had been her boss as she fussed over her inbox.

The future of his career was the last thing Adrien had in mind as he stumbled into the threshold of the Agreste mansion. Moving almost as if through water, he squinted against the harsh light of the kitchen, the flip of the lightswitch sending a surge of pain through his already sore head. As awful as choking down breakfast sounded, he knew he should have something to eat to speed along his recovery. A toaster waffle, he figured, would be easy on his stomach and relatively low-effort. When it was done cooking, it popped up with a sudden noise that made his head throb painfully again. Taking a bite, he found it almost inedibly dry with nothing on it. Waffle in one hand, he opened the fridge with the other, reaching for the maple syrup. He hesitated for a moment, his hand frozen outstretched in front of him. His eyes fell to the shelf on the inside of the refrigerator door, where they lingered for a moment on a pink plastic bottle sat nestled between an almost identical brown one and a jar of mustard. He picked it up, drizzled the waffle with the strawberry syrup, and set it back into place.

_Much better_ , he thought, taking another bite. The sweetness was almost overwhelming, but complimented the bland waffle nicely. _Almost as tasty as it is on something else..._

He slammed the door, only to hear a squirrely voice from inside the fridge shriek, “Wait!”

Adrien opened the fridge again, only to see the small dark shape of Plagg holding a sizable chunk of cheese. “When did you get in there?!”

“When you were fantasizing about Miss Twintails Sans Spots, you knucklehead! You really do have a type, don't you?” the kwami reprimanded.

“I wasn't fantasizing!”

“Yeah? Are the sudden cravings stopping at strawberry sauce or am I going to have to pretend to not hear you moaning 'Oh, Marinette!' after lights-out?”

“Ugh, at keep your voice down when you're taunting me.” Adrien closed the door as Plagg zipped out of the fridge, then pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and flopped into it. “I can't stop thinking about what happened.”

“You actually remember twirling Marinette around then giving her a full-body tongue bath?” Plagg replied quickly, the volume of his voice not much lower than it had been.

“No, what Alya said. It's weird, right? That I'm out of high school and I haven't kissed anyone for real yet?” He took another bite of his breakfast and washed it down with a gulp of water.

Plagg raised a devious eyebrow at his partner in justice. “I'd say you were kissing Marinette pretty thoroughly last night.”

“On the lips, I mean,” Adrien clarified.

“But you kissed right next to them.”

“I wasn't even by her face for most of it.”

“Oh, not _those_ lips.”

Adrien could feel himself blushing at the comment, and the blood rushing to his head made him woozy. The small amount of truth in his words was not something he could think to hard about right now. “I'm not above feeding you exclusively Cheez Whiz.”

It was this type of threat that Plagg tended to respond favorably to. He backed down immediately. “I'm just saying, it's certainly not for lack of trying. Just ask Ladybug.”

“That's different.”

“Is it, though?” Plagg asked in a tone that suggested he had already made up his mind about the answer. “Or are you trying to separate your civilian identity from your hero one in your head to justify flirting with both of them to yourself, even though you use exactly the same tactics?” He was met with an icy green glare. He shrugged it off, floating around idly. “Relax, I've seen it happen a hundred times. You stay in the business long enough, you start to see some patterns.”

What scared him was that it _wasn't_ different. As Chat Noir, he had felt how he had this morning on countless occasions with Ladybug – when she caught him in her arms, when they were trapped in a bubble together, when he watched her stand up for what was right, when she twirled her body and weapon around so effortlessly, every time they defeated a villain with their combined skill – some sort of attraction that could only be described as magnetic. “If it makes you feel any better, which is of course my top priority,” he said with a fraction of the snark that he endured daily from his kwami, “I _didn't_ try.”

“Well, maybe that should change,” Plagg replied matter-of-factly.

Adrien's eyes widened at the suggestion. It sounded nearly blasphemous, especially how he said it so casually. “I'm not just going to give up on Ladybug. You know I've loved her for years,” he said with all the firmness he could muster.

“Yeah, don't gotta remind me.”

“But...” He looked away, taking another bite of his waffle before continuing. Saying it out loud felt like he was admitting something, making it real. “...until this morning, I'd never felt that way about anyone besides her before.”

Before he could think about the implications of this, Nathalie screamed from another room. His chair almost toppled over as he stood up, and he heard the sounds of a struggle from the same direction.

“Plagg, claws out!”

 

* * *

 

The pink-and-white spotted mattress creaked under Marinette's weight as she flopped down onto it immediately upon returning home. Her room was a bit of a mess from the day before, dirty clothes still on the ground that had been extracted from her overnight bag to make room for fresh ones and outlines of essays and concept outfit designs scattered on her desktop. Neither she nor Tikki were at all very concerned with the untidiness at the moment, what with more pressing issues at hand.

“I'm my own competition now!” Marinette blurted out. She pulled a pillow close to her chest, hugging it for comfort.

Tikki looped over her, coming down to rest on top of the pillow. “No Marinette, you have the advantage now! After all, you know better than anyone else what Ladybug would do!”

This advice fell on deaf, anxious ears. “How could I have not noticed? And I totally screwed it up! Not only is he in love with someone _else-_ ”

“With you, Marinette-”

“-but I stepped on his feet! I fell right into his arms! That's the opposite of what Ladybug would have done!”

This was not, by far, the first panic that Tikki was tasked with guiding her chosen one through. “If you didn't know how to dance,” she calmly explained, “then Ladybug wouldn't have been able to either. You are both sides of the same coin.”

Marinette's demeanor did seem to relax a bit at this reminder. She looked up with wide eyes at her kwami. “But Alya's promise! She said that we would kiss, but it didn't happen even though there were so many opportunities for it. There's no way he wants to with me, he likes Ladybug...”

“Oh, Marinette...” Tikki hovered a bit, planting a tiny kiss on Marinette's forehead. “That doesn't mean it isn't going to happen. You've been saying this for years, and each opportunity you thought you missed was never your last.”

“You're right!” She shot up, grabbing her phone and unlocking it excitedly. “Alya didn't say that it would happen _last night_ , just that it would happen! You're brilliant!” Within moments, her phone beeped with indication that her message to her best friend had been delivered.

> _Thanks again for hosting, I had a blast! Down for a repeat soon?_

Much to Marinette's relief, the reply came almost as quickly.

> _Obvs! Might be a minute tho, fam gets back soon so I wont have the place to myself for a couple weeks..._

Filled with renewed determination, she exchanged a few more messages, tentatively setting the date for exactly two weeks later. It was more important to her than ever that it happen soon. With high school over and college looming at the end of the summer, she her opportunities to see Adrien were getting further apart all the time. Although she planned to stay in Paris for school – after all, the city still needed Ladybug – studying fashion design was bound to tighten up her schedule even further in the coming months.

Tikki sighed in both relief and amusement. Looks like Marinette could take things from here. She zipped down to the kitchen, excited to indulge a bit while her partner plotted her next move.

Marinette flopped back down onto her bed. Maybe, just maybe, things might be looking up after all, she thought. Her mind turned back to the events of the night before. She and Adrien had shared a few intimate moments, after all. At the time, she had been relieved that they were never alone together, like she had been with Nino in the closet – she wouldn't have even begun to know how to handle herself. But then again, she had thought the same thing as he drunkenly spun her around to that jazzy tune she found playing on repeat in her mind, and when he traced his tongue down her mostly-naked form on the floor later on. He didn't do those things to Ladybug, she reminded herself. He did those things with her.

A tingle of excitement shook her whole body. Even if he hadn't actually kissed her, her middle-school self would be teeming with jealousy if she had even an inkling of the night's events. The way he so effortlessly caught her in his arms...The way he had straddled her before leaning down and pressing his lips to her neck...The way he had looked at her when hand was pulling her panties down to lick just under them...

She didn't register for a moment the trailing of her own hand down to feel the same area. Her fingers glided idly over the sensitive skin just above her mons, tracing the same heart shape that he had licked clean. The feeling that the gentle touch sent through her was quite similar to the effect his mouth had on her.

A quick glance around the room confirmed that she was totally alone.

She reached in a bit further, sliding her fingertips under her panties, experimentally teasing herself as she imagined he might have had his path down her body continued. She felt herself slowly up and down, noting the softness and warmth and wetness of every fold along the way. Her pace picked up as her mind raced with the possibilities – if the syrup had gone just a bit further down; if he had pulled the skimpy piece of cloth covering her down just a little more; if instead of having an audience, they had been quite alone.

As she allowed herself to get lost in her fantasies, her hand moved more autonomously, expertly rubbing the sensitive nub with which it had become quite acquainted with over the years. This process was made easier as more of her juices spilled out of her, only to be picked up and spread across the area by her overeager fingers. She pressed down harder, imagining it was not her skilled touch pushing her closer and closer to the edge, but Adrien's.

The speed at which she found herself at the verge of orgasm was record-breaking, but did not surprise her in the least. _Almost there..._ Her fingers were now flying over her clit, moving back and forth as rapidly as she could manage, her fresh panties now just as wet as they had been the night before. She gasped once more, feeling herself clench a final time, before-

_Zzzzt!_

Everything came to a screeching halt at the sudden ringing and buzzing coming from her bedside table's drawer. Groaning at the interruption, she groped at the knob and opened it to find her burner phone, one that she used to communicate with Chat Noir when she was out of costume, lit up with her partner in crime's name. _That damn cat..._ She took a deep breath and huffed it out before flipping it open. “Hello?”

“I just got a tipoff about a break-in at the Agreste house – come quick!”

_I was about to, s_ he heard herself scream in her head. “Okay, I'll see you soon,” she responded curtly instead. She slammed the phone shut violently and stood up fuming.   
  
“Tikki, spots on!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, friends - more sleepover raunchiness to come after a bit of daytime raunchiness! Keep letting me know what you'd like to see!


	6. Three Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladybug and Chat Noir confront a burglar at the Agreste household, giving them both a chance to confront some difficult truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry if this is terrible or doesn't make any sense it's 3AM and I'm pretty wasted from celebrating Pride lmao. Thanks for being excellent and sticking with me <3

Chat Noir was more grateful than ever for the energy boost and near-invulnerability that his transformation provided him – without it, the pounding in his head (which had now faded to a barely-noticeable soreness) would have undoubtedly crippled his efforts. He ran from room to room looking for Nathalie, checking first in the places he would expect her to be. Another crash reverberated down the hallway he was in, leading him to a door at the end of the hall, which he recognized as his father's office which had been left untouched for over a year.

The first thing that caught his eye was Nathalie, her hands bound behind her back, locking her in place on the swivel chair in front of the desk. The second was the shape of an unknown man, rummaging through some sort of paper files in the corner of the room.

“Hold it right there!”

The intruder – a short but athletically built man with a few day's worth of dark facial hair peppering his cheeks and chin – jumped back at the sudden sound, dropping an armful of manilla folders and scattering their contents across the floor. He stood, now frozen, in front of a towering gray file cabinet whose drawers had been rather sloppily opened and half-heartedly closed. A quick survey of the room showed, to Chat Noir's relief and befuddlement, the cabinet and its contents appeared to be the only things disturbed. Although Nathalie was immobilized and the computer's monitor was lit up, the assistant did not have any immediately visible injuries and the more obviously valuable items – the original paintings and sculptures, the jewel-encrusting paperweight that still decorated the desk, even the extravagantly expensive and easy-to-swipe custom ink pen engraved with Gabriel's name - had not been touched.

Chat took another menacing step forward. “What the hell are you-”

The whipping sound of a magical yo-yo being shot into the room and wrapping around the intruder's ankles interrupted the rest of the chaos. He fell to the ground with a loud thud. His body jerked forward as Ladybug yanked on the string, stomping into the room. “Explain yourself! Now!”

The man nervously and nearly-incoherently babbled about “valuable company secrets” and “not touching anything else” and “meaning no harm” - a bold claim given his current position.

“And what have you done with Adrien?”

“He's safe and sound, Princess, I made sure of it!” assured Chat from behind her. Even though he was not the one on the receiving end of her wrath, he was torn between wanting to calm her and watch how things unfolded – he couldn't remember her ever acting so worked up before.

She nodded curtly in acknowledgement. Her anger returned to its original tightly-wrapped target. “If I find out you hurt anyone in this household, so help me, I will _personally_ find you in your miserable prison cell, and believe me – after I'm through with you, you'll be begging to go back to whatever menial punishment the government decides is fitting for scum like you.”

Terror struck the criminals eyes, shortly followed by a look of surprise.“Hey- ow! What are you doing?!”

Chat Noir, seeing his opportunity, was sticking his hands in every pocket of the man's clothes with absolutely no regard for personal space. “You get caught mid-robbery, you get frisked, I don't make the rules. Occupational hazard, wouldn't you agree?” Chat gave him a shit-eating grin before his face lit up with a new discovery. “Ooh, look what we have here!” He pulled a small USB thumb drive from the thief's right pants pocket, examining it in the light. “It would be quite a shame if I were to...” He casually flicked the thumb drive into the air.  
  
“No, wait-” Ladybug yanked the yo-yo's string again as her captive moved to grab the small object.

The sigh of relief that left the man as Chat caught the drive and spun in in his fingers actually loosened the yo-yo's hold, which Ladybug quickly tightened up. “Don't worry, I'm not gonna drop it. I'll catch it every time, watch,” Chat bragged. He tossed it up even higher in the air this time, then flung his arm up the same skyward path with a flourish. “Cataclysm!”

A look of dumbstruck horror twisted the intruder's face, as if in slow motion, as the thumb drive completed its arc, falling back down into the the glowing black, leather-clad hand of Chat Noir. It rusted before crumbling into dust and falling through his fingers.

“See, that's the kind of thing that maybe wasn't worth using your big finale attack on,” Ladybug said after a moment.

“You know I have a flair for the dramatic, Bugaboo.”

After untying Nathalie, who quickly scurried off, the three of them walked single file down the hallway and stairs, through the expanses of the Agreste manse. Ladybug lead the way, holding the string of her yo-yo idly in one hand, the rest of the cord wrapped around the intruder walking behind her. Chat Noir followed with his staff pushed sharply between the man's shoulderblades. This formation had become procedure for the superhero duo post-Hawkmoth; without a token to break and an akuma to purify, the best option was to surrender the criminal in question to the police, who had the irritating tendency to arrive after all of the action.

Despite the urgent nature of their situation, Ladybug had other things on her mind. Behind her – well, behind the person immediately behind her – was the man who had been openly flirting with her for years. It had been happening for as long as she could remember; carefully timed winks, cheesy one-liners, and overly-optimistic leaning ins, had all made her would-be suitor's feelings clear to her. But as far as she could remember, he had never told her why. Now that she thought about it, she had never asked. Perhaps, she thought, if she knew what it was that Chat liked about her so much, it would give her a bit of insight into what it was that Adrien found so special about her red spandex-clad persona that he didn't in her civilian self. “Hey, Chat...”

“Yes, Princess?” he chirped.

“What is it that you see in me?” The words slipped out as if oiled, and she felt her face redden as they did. She didn't dare look back at him.

For just a moment, he was glad that she couldn't see his face from her angle; he would not have been able to play it as cool as he wanted her to see him. He quickly gathered his wits the best he could. “Your sense of timing, for one.”

This statement of the obvious broke her inappropriately-timed train of thought. “O-Oh, right...”

The awkward silence lasted as long as the short walk to the front door.

When the police finally arrived – after everything had wrapped up, just as they had predicted – Ladybug recounted the details and the pair of heroes led the intruder to a squad car.

Chat Noir was quick to sass the tardy officers. “Are you sure you don't need to stop for donuts first? Or am I good to _safely remove_ my stick?”

“I don't know if that was a sex joke or a USB one, but it wasn't good either way,” Ladybug reprimanded.

Once Chat was on a pun roll, however, it was hard to slow him down. “If you do need a snack break, you're in the right place. This isn't so much a local cop car as it is a Universal Cereal Bus,” he said, shoving the now handcuffed criminal into the backseat.

“Please stop.”

“Hey, I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right the first time. But it still took me...” He looked at her expectantly. Her expression didn't change.  
  
“...three tries.” He winked at her, very amused with himself, as he slammed the squad car door. They headed toward the front door as the scene cleared and stopped just outside it. “Hey,” he said, offering a change of subject. “You were in quite the mood earlier. I didn't call during anything important, did I?”

“Just taking care of something that needed to happen,” she responded shiftily.

“Anything I could help with?”

“You wish.”

“I do! It almost sounds like I interrupted your wildest fantasies about us.” He hadn't been expecting her face to redden with a look that he saw on many a criminal's face – one of a person who had been caught in the act. His own green eyes widened with surprise and delight. “No way.”

“It wasn't about you!” The color of her face must have matched her uniform, she thought. The only person she ever discussed touching herself with was Alya, and even then only after a glass or two of wine apiece.

“Well, I'm quite flattered, Princess,” ignoring her claim that still didn't dismiss the fact that he had guessed correctly about her earlier solo activities. The chances of her doing so in costume, he realized, were very slim. Even so, he filed the mental image away for later use. “But getting back to your earlier question...”

“O-Oh!” She had almost forgotten that she had even asked what it was he saw in her, and suddenly she felt that she didn't really need the answer all that badly if it meant having to look into his eyes and tell her. The change of topic, however, came as quite a relief. “No, you really don't need to-”

“I'm afraid I must insist if you're so curious, Snugglebug.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently. To his great surprise, she let him. “I was afraid you'd never ask, after all. First...” He pressed his thumb atop her pointer finger. “...is the obvious answer of your stunning looks. You blow me away every time I see you, princess.”

Although she had fully expected this answer, she still laughed with a mixture of embarrassment and pride. His thumb moved from her pointer to her middle finger.

“Second, and perhaps most importantly, is your compassion. Never in my life have I ever met someone so quick to action when it comes to selflessly helping those in need, nor so tenacious in ensuring the well-being of everyone around her.”

The genuineness with which he had delivered this line caught her by surprise. She had the tendency to dismiss his persistent flirting as superficial and childish until the rare occasions where he really opened up.

“And third...” His thumb slid from her middle to her ring finger, his glance darting down to her lips and back up to meet her eyes. “...I bet you'd be a _really_ great kisser.”

This last answer she had been expecting. “Wouldn't you like to know?” she laughed as dismissively as she could.

“You already know the answer.” An urgent beeping noise cut him off. “But to list all the reasons, I would need much longer than the minute I have left. Go inside, make sure everyone's okay,” he said, gesturing to the last flashing pad on his ring.

She didn't need to be told twice. With a quick fist bump, they parted ways, Chat Noir running around the corner of the mansion out of view and Ladybug heading inside. As she stepped over the threshold, a flash of green light caught the corner of her eye and her partner's voice rang out from behind the edge of the house.

“And you know that we're made for each other!”

As cheesy as his jokes and one-liners were, the cat certainly knew a way or two to make a lady blush. She shook her head as she went inside in a vain attempt to clear it. Instead of thinking about the adoration, the reverence in his voice as he described her, she thought, it was better to focus on ensuring Adrien's safety.

Meanwhile, the man in question was making his way somewhat clumsily through the kitchen. The way his hangover had returned was as sudden as it was unwanted. A beautiful sight entering the room momentarily brightened him up. “Ladybug!” he called out as he saw her turn in. “I'm fine, Chat Noir told me to stay hidden.”

“Adrien!” Before either of them knew what was happening, she was holding him tightly in an embrace that moved and swung around just as she did.

He looked at her like she was the whole world. The care, the concern, the relief in her bluebell eyes was exactly what he had been describing to her earlier. _How wonderful it would be_ , he thought, _to be able to tell her everything I just did as my civilian self. To not have to hide my true feelings or my identity from the one I love. But at the same time..._ An awful truth pulled relentlessly at him again, a truth as persistent as it was unavoidable.

A truth that was momentarily forgotten as she embraced him even tighter for a second. He could only hope that the bulge forming under his belt was glaringly less obvious to her than it was to him.

The brief, heavenly moment stopped just as quickly as it had began. “I-I mean...” She awkwardly let go of him. “Just making sure everyone's safe! Glad to see you are! Okay, uh, bye!” With that, she turned and ran back the way she came.

Ladybug's inward groan turned outwards as she zipped out of sight on her yo-yo. “'Okay, uh, bye?' Is that seriously still all I can manage?” _But_ , she considered, and wasn't sure if the message was comprised of original thoughts or Tikki's influence, _it's still much more than I used to be able to say to him._ The way she had gotten flustered in front of Chat Noir, however was an uncomfortably new development. She refused to admit the effect his near-poetic words had had on her, but she considered their meaning all the same. _Were those the things that Adrien sees in Ladybug, too?_

While she may have considered herself good-looking, she obviously wasn't as good-looking as her favorite green-eyed boys found her with a red-spotted face mask and matching spandex suit. As brave and compassionate as Marinette could admit to herself that she was, she didn't exactly go around saving lives and solving crimes as she did when equipped with super-human abilities and a magic yo-yo. And as good as she liked to think she would be at kissing, she knew she couldn't possibly match the perceived ability that her double-life's confidence gave her.

 _Would Chat Noir like me if he knew who I really am under my mask? The foil to everything he likes about me?_ She wished she could stop her anxiety-driven train of thought as it slid off the tracks. _And would Adrien? Certainly not, Adrien already knows the real me..._

Adrien watched her go – to make sure he left safely, he tried to reason to himself, but the view of her from behind certainly wasn't too bad either – then started back to his bedroom for some privacy to think.

Truthfully, the speech he had given the woman he adored unrequitedly about the many ways he loved her was far from improvised. Every word of it was well-rehearsed beforehand, anxiously awaiting the day if and when she finally asked. And every word, he realized with dawning horror, was one he wished he could say to another certain woman in his life. A certain woman who embodied everything he saw in Ladybug – and, perhaps, even more.

For now, a simple text would have to do. Heart racing, he tapped out a few words and hit “send.”

> Thanks for taking care of me. I look forward to next time :)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some fluff (and angst?)! And don't worry, the next sleepover will start next chapter. <3


	7. Round Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang gets together for another sleepover at Alya's! Now that the ice has been somewhat broken, they can move into steamier territory.

The next few weeks had allowed Marinette a bit of time for reflection – and almost as importantly, countless chances to finish what she had started in her bedroom before the rude interruption of an ongoing robbery across town, which she eagerly took. But once the initial tension was relieved, she could no longer delay dwelling on the new mess of emotions that the earlier events had stirred up for her. Alya's excited texts about the events of their slumber party had awaited Marinette when she returned to her bedroom and transformed back, and were quickly replied to with equally emotional messages of anxiety. Even worse, Marinette couldn't even share with her best friend the truly complicating factor that her wrench of a dual-identity threw into the whole situation.

She had been the one to reveal to Alya the answer to the question that she had been hounding Adrien over before. His type of girl wasn't a clumsy, awkward, unlucky mess – she was confident, coordinated, and clad in skin-tight red spandex. This much Alya acknowledged with perhaps a bit more enthusiastic agreement than Marinette had been expecting.

> But how could anyone _not_ be crushing on Ladybug? She was the foxiest gal in town even when Volpina was here tbh

Alya had even taken a shockingly similar approach to Marinette's own, compiling a list of all the moments she could find on the Ladyblog of Chat Noir declaring his admiration for his partner, looking for clues as to what made Ladybug so desirable. Added to this list were quite a few items of Alya's own inclusion. Her message had been even more comforting than Nino's occasional “WWLBD?” reminders.

> You can be all those things girl!!! Ladybugs got nothin on u!

What Alya didn't know, however, was the conversation Marinette had had with Chat Noir to the same effect. She didn't know the way he had kissed Ladybug's hand just as he had on so many occasions before but so _tenderly_ this time, nor the way he counted the ways he loved her on her own fingers. No one, not even Alya, knew the way Marinette kept finding herself running her thumb over those same three fingers.

Marinette sighed as she scrolled through the text log on her phone. She couldn't be much cozier sitting in her pajamas on the cushy couch in Alya's basement, but she still felt uneasy while she waited by herself downstairs.

The sight of a black t-shirt-clad model strutting down the stairs – quite alone – only sent her heartbeat even further skyward.

The smile that lit up his face as he entered was as sunshiney as his golden hair. “Hey! Still waiting on the others?”

“Yeah! I mean- not for too long, but- yeah, I'm...waiting.” The fruity cocktails Alya was preparing couldn't come soon enough. Her thumb found solace across the tops of her fingers.

“Well, as long as we've got a little time...” He dropped his bag on the floor. Marinette's heart stopped briefly at the sound. “I promised I'd teach you how to dance, right?”

A shy smile slowly stretched across her face. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

“Then we have to practice!” With a couple strides across the room, he stood over her, offering her his outstretched hand.

She glanced from it to his eyes and back again. Clad in his t-shirt and pajama pants, he wasn't exactly dressed in a way that matched the princely pose that might as well have been ripped straight from her ballroom fantasies, nor was she wearing a flowing dress of her own design befitting of a Disney princess. With her hair down and wearing comfy clothes on the pale carpet, she thought as she accepted his hand with a smile, was somehow even better. “If you insist.”

“I'm afraid I must.”

She couldn't help but smile as she stood up, never breaking contact with his eyes nor his hand. They stood together in the same open area that they had spend so much of their night in last time, the floor clearer without the mess of pillows and blankets having been made yet. Their hands met and came into position between them, Marinette resting hers palms-down in his. “No music?”

“We'll do it acapella.”

After a brief refresher on the order of the steps and how they fit in the rhythm, his quiet chanting of “one-two-three, left-two-three, back step,” faded into melodic humming. Marinette recognized the tune at once – it was [the same one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGbwe0qcW5g) that they had tipsily spun around the room to just a couple weeks before, the song that she had found herself quietly humming when she worked ever since. He let go of one of her hands and raised the other over both of their heads to the beat; she twirled effortlessly, then was gently pulled forward again back into position.

“ _La mer..._ ” he crooned as they came together again.

The next moment, he was stepping behind her, and the next, in front as she whirled around to keep up with him. He caught her hands in his as she did so. “ _Qu'on voit danser..._ ”

His knowledge of the lyrics that he was now singing back to her – totally sober, at that – meant one of two things to Marinette: either he already knew the song, she forced herself to consider, or the alternative possibility that he had been finding himself coming back to it in the same way she had and actually looked it up. His hand releasing hers and pulling her ever-so-slightly closer by the small of her back shattered whatever explanations she could come up with long before they could even form. She looked back up at him instead of at her feet, whose every move she had been carefully watching for accuracy. She almost immediately found herself adoring and regretting doing so.

His strikingly green eyes glinted with a familiar mischief. Their bodies were so close together that she could nearly feel his warmth even through their clothes, the pressure of his hand on her lower back holding her in place. She was so completely lost in the sight and the sensation that she almost didn't register his lopsided smile nor the way he sang the next line.

“We're not interrupting anything, are we?”

Just as quickly as he had pulled her him, their grip on each other broke at the sound of another voice. Alya was descending the staircase, two empty cups in one hand and a large glass bottle in the other, followed closely by Nino carrying a similar assortment of items as well as a container of raspberries.

“N-Nothing at all! Just waiting for you guys!” Marinette stammered out. She felt Alya's intense stare boring into her as she looked away and took a step back, attempting to appear nonchalant and draw attention away from the shade of magenta she could feel herself turning. She ventured a glance back and caught Alya's determined gaze. The smile that she saw spread across her bespectacled friend's face told her everything she needed to know, and at once she was reminded again by her promise.

Alya mixed together a few ingredients in each glass as the others started to set up the space on the floor by the couch with pillows and blankets retrieved from the nearby closet. As they set up, Marinette's phone buzzed in indication of a new message, and she glanced down at it, not surprised to see Alya's name on the screen.

> _We'll talk later ;)_

Once everything was set up to their liking, everyone settled in on their own pillow with a freshly-made drink in their hand. They all cheered when Alya reached behind her back and pulled out the same empty bottle they had used last time and set it on the floor in the middle.

“I suppose we should start with the hostess, right?” suggested Marinette, still flustered. “So truth or dare, Alya?”

Alya picked truth, and Nino dutifully brought up the challenge on her phone. He cleared his throat before reading it aloud.

“Do you have any tattoos? If so, show them off to make everyone else drink!”

An almost malicious smirk crossed Alya's face. Marinette knew what was coming before Alya even stood up. It wasn't exactly news to her, as she had received a fairly racy snapchat of the mark in question while she had been at work, resulting in her fumbling her phone at the bakery register. She didn't even bother to feign surprise when her best friend unbuttoned and pulled down her jeans, taking the hem of her panties with them, to reveal a black and blue feather decorating her right hip. The detailing on the feather gave it a permanent midnight blue glimmer that contrasted beautifully with its owner's red hair.

The men on either side of her had significantly less composure. Nino's expression was one of pure, unadulterated delight, as if Christmas had come in the middle of July. Adrien's hand came up just a bit as if to touch the design, but then decided against it just as quickly.

“It was the obvious first choice,” Alya explained, breaking the silence. No one's expression changed. “Homegirl is everyone's favorite Ravenclaw.”

Nino was the one to break the subsequent silence. “Well, I don't know how anyone is gonna top _that_ , but let's find out.” He gave the bottle a spin, only for Alya to bend down and stop it mid-turn.

“Hold on, it's not even your turn.” She turned to address the group. “I _was_ just going to let you all get off with just one drink each, but for Nino's impatience, I think it seems fair to up that to a body shot as punishment; don't you think?”

“A...body shot?” Adrien asked, confused.

“Wanna take this one?” Alya asked the other two before standing up and flouncing off to get the necessary supplies.

After a brief explanation of the process, Marinette and Nino were quizzing Adrien on the order – shot, salt, lime – when Alya rejoined them. She set the items on the floor and measured out tequila into a shot glass.

“So who's up first?” She asked, stretching out on the floor and pushing up her tank top to reveal her glittering navel piercing.

Marinette volunteered and took hers with an almost practiced ease, while Nino lingered for perhaps just a bit too long on Alya's stomach before licking the salt on her chest and taking the lime from her mouth with a wink. Adrien got about halfway through his before he choked, coughing and sputtering the bitter liquid.  
  
“This tastes like poison. Like, my body instinctively knows that this doesn't belong inside it.”

“Firsht time tashting tequila, Agreshte?” Alya took the lime wedge out of her mouth and handed it to him before continuing. “Try this first.”

He obediently bit down into it. His eyes squeezed shut in a wince, but it seemed to be easier on his inexperienced palette than the silver tequila. With more swiftness than before, he leaned back down and took the rest of the shot, then deftly licked the salt between Alya's collarbones. He straightened up and threw his head back, forcing it down. He gave his head a little shake, attempting to reorient himself.

Alya sat up, brushing off the remaining particles of salt off her chest before addressing the group.

“Not bad for your first body shot, Adrien. Now to do this properly.” She gave the bottle a decisive spin, and it came to a stop pointing directly across from her. Just as she had been before, Marinette was sitting opposite the hostess. “Ooh, how would you like to start the evening, Marinette?”

“Truth,” she answered a bit more quickly than she had intended. Given the embarrassment she had just faced from reprising a dare from last time, she thought it best to stick to verbal challenges.

Alya tapped the screen and read the question aloud. “Who is your celebrity crush?”

Marinette immediately regretted her decision. “My, um...well...define 'celebrity,'” she said to Alya, attempting to stall for time.

“Oh, you know, anyone who you would expect a reasonably in-the-know individual would recognize. Say, for instance, in magazine ads and posters across Paris,” Alya answered with a glint in her eye. “And maybe in clippings from said magazines in your room.”

“Someone who you would all know about, then?” Marinette knew exactly the answer that Alya was fishing for, but she wasn't one to take the bait so easily. “Well, maybe there is _someone_ like that...”

“It wouldn't happen to be anyone blonde or green-eyed or handsome, would it?”

Marinette froze up. Two men in her life matched the description to a tee, two men whose visages frequently graced billboards and website ads around the city. Two men who she found herself every day obsessing over in one way or another...

One of their voices broke the silent pause.

“C'mon Alya, don't tease her _too_ badly with that kind of misdirection. It's not like she's the only one in France who owns every edition of every Jagged Stone album.”

As perfect in every other way as he was, Marinette thought, Adrien could sure be fucking clueless. She remembered Nino's words of advice to her in the closet; “You can _both_ be hella obtuse.” She looked over to him, but he and Alya were already sharing a look that was as amused as it was knowing.

“I'll switch to a dare,” Marinette said as decisively as she could manage.

“Alright, but you know the rules,” said Alya with a shrug. “Gotta finish your drink.”

Between the fact that they had just begun playing and the tequila shot she had just taken off of Alya, the mojito on the floor next to Marinette had barely even been touched. She took it in a few gulps, pausing for air before downing the last bit of liquid. The sweetness of the drink masked most of the burning sensation that went down her throat with the rum.

Alya smiled, evidently satisfied. She picked up a pitcher from one of the end tables and refilled Marinette's glass. “Well, if _I_ were to have gotten that question, you all would have gotten to hear about my massive crush on Ladybug,” she said, as matter-of-factly as if she were talking about the trip to the store she had taken earlier.

“Honestly, I can't think of anyone else whose legs I could stay between for hours quite like hers. If the rumors are true, Chat Noir must be a pretty lucky guy. Don't you agree?” With this, she shot a pointed look at Adrien, whose expression was one of a man internally crumbling.

“I, ah, yeah, I guess so. Getting to...um...” He raised his glass to his lips, taking a large swig, giving his mouth anything else to do but stammer his agreement.

Marinette laughed nervously. Alya sure did have a way of constantly joking about her supposed infatuation with Ladybug. She felt a tap on her right shoulder as Alya continued loudly pining over her other identity.

“You didn't tell her, did you?” Nino whispered, leaning in towards Marinette.

“How'd you guess?”

Adrien kept searching for a way out, and at last, he finally found one. “These are fun, but I think we should get a little more R-Rated, don't you?”

Luckily, he seemed to have picked the one thing that could divert her attention away from his nervous sputtering.

“Always upping the ante, aren't you, Agreste? But you know my answer.” She gave the screen a flick before looking back up at him. “And I assume you're prepared to test-drive the new settings?”

“Always. But I'm not letting Marinette get off that easily,” he challenged.

When it came to taking advantage of innuendos, Alya rivaled Chat Noir in her quickness of wordplay. Marinette could see Alya's fingers racing over her phone's keyboard before pulling up the app again and tapping the appropriate button. Marinette left her phone untouched beside her as it lit up with what was surely Alya's latest masterpiece. Finally, the redhead cleared her throat. 

“Your new dare: undress and redress another player in each other's clothes. And since Adrien so thoughtfully volunteered-”

“Wait, shouldn't we spin for it?” Marinette asked frantically. She knew the answer before even asking the question, and realized with horror that she couldn't use both her lifelines on the same turn.

“I gotta say, the idea of you two-” he gestured at the women on either side of him, “-drunkenly getting naked in the closet together isn't a bad one.”

“I see where you're coming from, but fair's fair,” reasoned Alya.

“Don't worry bro, I'm sure our time will come,” Adrien said reassuringly. “And the way you put it sounds like it includes underwear.”

Alya looked thoughtful for a moment, her sly grin never leaving her face even when her eyes opened with a mischievous glint. “It certainly does. Now hop to it you two, we only have all night.”

As anxious as Alya's schemes tended to make her, Marinette had to admit there was something very encouraging in the smile that her friend gave her whenever she found herself in the midst of one Alya's setups. With one final glance back as Adrien helped her up and headed into the hallway, she just barely caught a glimpse of Alya flashing a thumbs up and mouthing a parting message.

“You got this!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally actually supposed to contain the clothes switching dare, but I got really ambitious about the content leading up to it and it's already long enough as it is. But as a result, I already have most of that part written. A couple people have requested it, and it's actually something I've wanted to happen too since I first came up with the premise – I'm beyond thrilled that you guys are excited about it as I am! 
> 
> Thanks so much to @acupfullofcolors for the celebrity crush truth idea! They recommended a ton of great stuff that you'll see in future chapters, too. Keep sending in more, I love reading your suggestions! <3


	8. Arabella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's what y'all've been waiting for. Rather, the first of many things but for sure the most requested!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Applying to better jobs and grad school is all I've been doing in my free time lately (but I GOT A NEW JOB LADS). I hope you can forgive me since this chapter is eight pages long and four of them are Adrien and Marinette stripping each other. I love you all.

She closed the door behind them, leaving them nearly squeezed together in the cramped closet. Was it just her, or was it even smaller than when she had been there last with Nino? She spun around tightly, but still brushed against Adrien in turning to face him.

“So,” he started awkwardly, “come here often?”

Perhaps it was the buzz that was enjoyably persisting, but Marinette couldn't help but to laugh aloud. Although she could still feel her heart pounding in her chest, somehow she wasn't nearly as anxious as it made sense, she thought, for her to be. Even in her imagined moments with him, her mind turned to the worst case scenario, as it tended to when it came to particularly important things to her – she didn't pay too much mind to the fact that this was not currently the case.

“Increasingly.”

Her infectious laugh got him, and soon enough they were both almost doubled over in tipsy laughter. “Full disclosure...” He looked somewhat sheepishly away from her as they started to catch their breath. She noted that she could still smell the tequila on him. “...I have no idea how to put on a bra. I think you'll have to help me on that step.”

“Oh, don't worry,” she said, straightening up. “I'm not even wearing one! I'm...” The moment of realization hit her hard. Her hand instinctively came up to cover her still-clothed breasts. “I'm, uh...”

With a knowing smile, Adrien reached up and pulled the string dangling from the ceiling, leaving them both in near-complete darkness as the single dim bulb turned off.

“So...how do we start?” she asked every bit as awkwardly, playing with the top button of her short-sleeved black pajama top.

“Well, it's a two-step operation. And it sounds like the first step would be to...”

The gasp that left Marinette as his hands bumped hers in the darkness was as small as it was unintentional. Alya's words echoed in her head; _“Undress and redress another player in each others' clothes.”_ She giggled nervously. “Sorry, I didn't realize we would be, um...undressing _each other._ ”

Although she couldn't see him anymore, the loss of one of her senses only heightened the sound of him nervously laughing as well. “If it makes it any easier, you can start. If you want to, I mean.”

The way the recent tequila shot was making Marinette's head swim was all at once delightful and disorienting. If she didn't know better, she would suspect her current situation to be an all-too-often repeated dream. _Undressing Adrien Agreste..._

The all-too-real soft cotton hem of his t-shirt between her fingers proved otherwise. She ran her thumb over the fabric, her heart pounding in her chest. “So, I guess I just...”

His arms brushed against her as he raised them up, inviting her to take the next step. With his guidance, she pulled the shirt up over his head and along his arms, leaving him bare from the waist up. The fabric remained warm in her hands.

“Hold onto that, it'll be hard to find again in this light,” he warned. He touched her chest once more, hooking his finger just above the top button of her shirt. To Marinette's surprise, she didn't flinch at his touch this time. “May I?”

“Certainly.”

One by one, he undid each fastening holding her shirt closed. As he made his way down, his fingers brushed against her bare skin, sending a surprisingly pleasant shudder through her body. Although the alcohol dulled the sensation a bit, she felt just removed enough to fully enjoy it instead of panicking. When he had only two buttons to go, she was surprised to feel him stop.

“Oh man Marinette, I'm so sorry...” The hand that he had been using to undo the buttons of her sleep shirt pulled away, and she heard the sound of his fingers pushing his hair back. His next words were muffled, as if he were covering his mouth with his hand. The scent of alcohol on his breath was still somewhat obvious. “Ugh, this is so embarrassing. This is ridiculous, I can't believe this is happening.”

“Adrien? What's wrong?” Reflexively, her hand went to his face, checking for warmth. Heat radiated from his face, and she fought the very brief urge to pull it back away this time. Instead, she ran them down his face, taking his fingers off of his lips and onto his bare chest. “Are you okay?” She blinked as her eyes continued adjusting to the dark, just enough to see his head nod. His fingers gently but clumsily curled around hers.

“See for yourself.” His hand grew tighter around hers, following her trail even more south, until they both rested on the elastic of the waistband of his boxer briefs. Their fingers, with his guidance, both dipped down just below it, pulling it down ever-so-slightly before the fabric caught on something large and solid from within.

She pulled down gently, but nothing budged, the bulge remaining unyielding. Her grip tightened as sudden understanding shocked through her body. There was no way that her face was not as equally flushed as that of the model before her, as far as she could tell from his temperature. This was all she could think about when she felt his fingers under her chin, lifting it so that her eyes met his, searching in the dark for them. _There's no way he can't tell..._

“I-I won't look down if you don't,” she blurted out without thinking. Her vision had adjusted enough to make out his body, the shape of his bare chest, the line of his waistband under her fingers, and she could only assume he could see her the same way.

“You've got yourself a deal.”

Before she had the chance to pull his pajamas down farther, she felt his hand resume their work on the last remaining buttons on her shirt. This made for quick work, as there were only two left to undo, and as they did so the two sides fell away from each other entirely. Trying not to think too hard about it, Marinette shrugged the top off her shoulders with Adrien's clumsier than usual touch guiding the sleeves down and off her arms. Even with her shoulders bare, the pumping of her blood and the heat of the crowded air warmed her.

Here she stood, completely topless, in front of her longtime crush – and she was loving every minute of it.

He took her shirt from her and let her go. The shuffling and bumping that she heard and felt in front of her indicated that he was putting it on, and she allowed him a moment to do so in the cramped space before putting her own hands through the evidently too-large arm openings of his black t-shirt. Before she knew it, he was helping to pull the top over her head. She felt the soft pressure of his hands against her waist, and the shirt bunching around her sides under his touch. An infectious laugh bubbled out of her, and was soon joined by Adrien's.

“It's a little roomy, huh?”

“I have more room in the shirt than I do in the whole closet.” This impossibility seemed perfectly reasonable under the influence of the tequila that they both reeked of. She flexed her bicep, bumping her elbow loudly on the way up on some unseen object, assessing all the space in the sleeve that her arm didn't fill. It was one thing to see the lean muscular form of his arms in magazines or even next to her as they took turns spinning the bottle; it was another to feel the difference, in his still-warm tshirt no less, in the way their bodies had developed. “Pictures don't do those puppies justice,” she heard herself think aloud.

“What can I say? I've found a few good uses for 'em.”

She blushed at the realization that he had, indeed, heard her comment. “Oh?”

“For instance...” He let go of the shirt and let his hands travel down and under it, holding her by the hips just as before but now with his fingers running over the place where the hem of her pajama pants met her bare skin. A shudder wracked her body.

“For instance?”

“Well, they've never actually done _this_ before...”

Marinette could make out the outline of his head nodding towards the point where their bodies met. She didn't dare look down.

“...but perhaps this will be their best use yet.”

She hoped against hope that he didn't just sense the tingle he sent up her spine.

With that, he gave an experimental tug downwards. When Marinette shifted so that the waistbands slid down over her hip, he guided the bottoms down even further. His fingers brushed against her outer thighs and knees as gravity took over and pulled her pajama pants and underwear all the way down to the floor.

Almost automatically, she stepped out of them, gently kicking the pile of cloth away. As she bent down to pick them up, she felt herself bump against Adrien.

“Heh, sorry, I didn't mean to...um...”

“No worries. I mean, I can't even put them on until you, well...”

Her hands drifted towards him, finding their place on his waistband once again. His midriff was bare where her small shirt ended on his torso, and the hem of his underwear was a bit higher on his body than that of his pajamas.

“Until I...”

She took a steadying breath and a gentle but firm tug downwards. Both articles cooperated, but not without hesitation – the bulge he had pointed out to her before was still very much present and caught on the fabric as she pulled it down. She tried desperately not to think of the implications. To her great relief, once she got the bottoms down past his thighs, they fell to the floor on their own.

Adrien shifted in the dark, and a moment later, she felt him put his still-warm clothes into her hand.

“Yours may be a bit tight on me to have you do the honors. Mind if I do?”

“Not at all.”

Marinette felt her legs bump against Adrien's as they both attempted to wiggle into the other's clothes. His boxer briefs, she found, were a bit large but hugged her body more closely than the other articles. Even when pulled as tightly as he could get it, the drawstring of his pajama pants still barely held on to her hips. The hem bunched up in tight folds below her waist, and a good few inches of fabric dragged on the floor under her feet.

Immediately, a horrifying thought struck her – what if she got wet? Rather, what would happen _when_ she did?

Adrien's voice broke her quickly-spiraling train of thought.

“It's a tight squeeze, but it'll work. Shall we?”

The door creaked open and light and fresh air flooded in. It was only now, with the light from the hallway illuminating herself and the man beside her, that she could see how truly absurd they both looked. The soft pink pants that normally fell loosely over Marinette's slim legs were hugging Adrien tightly and stopped several inches above his ankles, appearing more like form-fitting leggings. Her sleep shirt, usually flattering in the way it curved around the contours of her body, hung unbuttoned over his shoulders, exposing his chest.

She almost wished the sight of the trail of hair leading down below his navel wasn't so perfectly framed by his monstrosity of an outfit. Operation: Keep Adrien's Underwear Dry was, perhaps, doomed to fail from the start.

 

Together, they walked down the hall and into the living room, Adrien's pajamas dragging on the floor under Marinette's feet. As they entered, Alya and Nino quickly broke apart from – scheming? Snuggling? Marinette couldn't tell – and got up to observe the results.

Alya squealed as she fussed over Marinette, looking at her from every angle and assessing the way Adrien's clothes draped over her. “Ooh, don't you look cozy!” She leaned in closer, whispering into Marinette's ear. “Bet he'd let you keep it if you asked,” she said conspiratorially, grabbing a handful of the black t-shirt.

Nino, however, was quick to comment on the obvious. “Damn dude, the skintight look really suits you!”

Adrien shifted his weight and put a hand on his hip, striking a pose. With a head swimming with alcohol and a flashy outfit, he could forget his worries; his father in prison, the recent break-in at his house, everything seemed to melt away as he came back into his element. “I'd say I'm ready for my next photoshoot! Wouldn't you agree? Or is it too avant-garde?”

Nino laughed almost dismissively. “Please, this isn't even the most compromising outfit I've seen you in this _month._ ”

_If only he knew how right he was_ , thought Adrien in amusement, striking a new pose. His most incriminating outfit was tucked away in his overnight bag in the form of a tiny black cat, sleepy and sassy and almost certainly craving more of his favorite cheese. And suddenly, like a puzzle piece falling into place, something clicked. The wheels in his head were so busy turning that he barely noticed that his friends were heading back to their usual spot on the ground, and Nino grabbed him by the wrist to lead him back.

Marinette spun, and this time the bottle stopped pointing across from her at Alya, who picked “dare.” Nino pulled up her challenge on her phone.

“Let another player mix you a drink, then down it all in one go. Spin to see who will prepare it. Alya?” he said, gesturing toward the middle of the circle.

Alya gladly gave the bottle a twist then whooped as it slowed down to point to her left. “So Adrien, looks like we're about to learn how much you've picked up from the master,” she boasted, pointing a thumb at herself.

“I suppose so,” he answered noncommittally. This did put a slight speed bump in his plans, but he could get back to them afterward.

 

They got up and convened at the small bar in the kitchen where Alya had spent so much time mixing them drinks. Adrien took a cursory glance around; there were several bottles of different types of alcohol, along with a few pre-cut fruits and mixers. Marinette watched with equal parts fascination and horror as Adrien uncapped and poured a bit from every bottle into the glass.

“That's so much-”

“Shh, let the man work!” Nino was quick on the draw, evidently not wanting anything to distract Adrien as he worked.

They looked on as Adrien topped off his creation with a splash of cola and a lime wedge. Despite splashing some of the drink on himself in the process, he set it proudly in front of Alya with a flourish and a “ _Voila!_ ”

Alya looked dumbfounded from the drink to its maker.

“...this is just a long island iced tea.”

“Joke's on you – I didn't even add any tea!”

“No, I mean this isn't a new idea, you're not the first one to-”

“Looks like someone's stalling!” Nino's comments was met with an eyeroll and a playful hit to the arm.

“Just like you make.” Adrien took an experimental taste before setting it back in front of Alya. “See, you can barely even taste the alcohol.”  
  
“That's not what I- okay, whatever, give me that.” With impressive ease, she lifted the glass and downed its contents, not even stopping for air. She slammed the glass down on the table triumphantly and met Adrien's eyes as though they hadn't even separated. “Now where were we?”

They returned to their circle of pillows and blankets on the ground, Alya leading the way with a confident stride. When it came time for her to spin, however, she fumbled the bottle, launching it towards Marinette. They both burst out laughing.

“Sorry girl! Should I re-do it?”

Marinette shook her head and gestured to the bottle which now lay in front of her, pointing to her left. “No, it's fine. Besides, Nino hasn't had a turn yet, right?”

“Not if you don't count that out-of-turn spin earlier. Gimme a dare!”

Alya was all too eager to comply. After a moment of searching, she found her phone and clumsily tapped the button. She couldn't help but laugh as she read it aloud.

“Okay...'Using only your lips, hold an ice cube on another player's torso until it melts.' Ooh, who's it gonna be?”

“Not me,” said Adrien suddenly. “I'm gonna go get washed up, bartending is a messier business than I thought.”

“So you finally understand my struggles. Bathroom's where it always is!” Alya gestured vaguely to the hallway at the bottom of the staircase.

“Actually, I think I left my stuff upstairs. Don't wait up!” With a wink, he stood up and excused himself, disappearing up the stairs.

This interruption didn't seem to phase Alya. “So if Adrien is out of the picture...and Marinette, I'm sure you'd just _hate_ to get his shirt wet when he's not even here...”

“Looks like it has to be you, then,” Marinette played along. “Will you do the honors, Nino?”

“Uh, totally!”

The three sat in silence for a moment. Alya was the one to finally break it.

“The ice cube, dude.”

Marinette hadn't seen Nino so flustered in quite a while, but the blush painting his face as he got up and went over the the kitchen was unmistakable. She felt Alya's hand on her shoulder and leaned in towards her.

“If he has half the oral talent Adrien showed last time, then I'm in for quite the treat.”

“You remember that, huh?”

“Not half as vividly as you probably do!”

Realization struck Marinette. “Wait, does that mean that you two haven't-”

She was cut off by Alya's finger pressing against her lips. They separated for the time being.

Nino returned carrying a tray of ice cubes and knelt down next to Alya.

“You ready?”

To Marinette's complete lack of surprise, Alya threw off her tank top in one swift motion.

“ _Now_ I'm ready!”

 

In the upstairs bathroom, Adrien unzipped his overnight bag. Plagg popped out, and whatever sassy retort he had ready vanished as he saw his partner's attire.

“I gotta say, those leggings _do_ suit you well! Finally embracing the benefits of the catsuit?”

“No, it's something _else_ that I need!”

“Besides a non-superhero genre of porn subscription? Oh! Maybe an approach to romancing women that contains _any_ amount of subtlety?”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “The opposite. She doesn't open up to me like she does to Alya and Nino, but shesure says a lot more to Chat than she does to me.”

“And I'm sure this has everything to do with the outfit.”

“The best way to figure out what she wants is just to ask, right?”

He raised his fist, displaying the ring.

“And you come to this conclusion _after_ you've been drinking?” Plagg flitted around the bathroom, making Adrien's head spin as he tried to keep up. “While you know I'm not one to warn you against using your powers for stupid reasons...”

“Then don't start now. Plagg, claws out!”

 

Marinette squirmed awkwardly. It wasn't so much about how hard she was third-wheeling at the moment, with Alya splayed out in front of her and Nino twisting free ice cubes from the tray – although that didn't exactly help. Between the dancing from earlier in the evening, to what may have just been actual flirting in the closet, all mixed up and shaken with tequila, she needed to talk.

Tikki was hidden away in her bag, and Marinette couldn't very well sneak off to discuss the events of the night with her.

Alya was currently giggling, drunk, and shirtless on the floor with Nino now straddling her, and Marinette certainly wasn't about to interrupt to recount the events of her clothes switch, as much as she knew her best friend would devour every detail.

So instead, she sat quietly, ruminating over her lack of options and the whirlwind of emotions and events clouding her mind. Putting them to words, she knew, would help to quiet her racing pulse – but what else could she do?

Her heart nearly stopped when the doorbell rang.

“I'll get it!” She scrambled to her feet, leaving the other two in the dust as she raced up the stairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @Kenny0550 for the drink dare idea and for leaving such incredibly kind comments! It really means the world!
> 
> Get ready for some good old-fashioned MariChat. Although I still strongly contend that we should call it MariNoir. Peace, friends <3


	9. There's Your Scoop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ladybug could kick my ass and I'd say thank you." -Adrien Agreste, probably

The moment his finger left the doorbell, he regretted everything.

Chat Noir stood outside the suburban home of the Césaire family, shifting from foot to foot, completely out of place save for the color of his outfit that matched the ambient darkness. He realized that didn't know who he was expecting would open the door, but felt his ears perk up nonetheless it swung open and Marinette stood in the threshold. Her slender frame was dwarfed by the loose fit of another's clothes – even her hair fell unkempt and wild around her face and just past her shoulders. Her mouth dropped open in surprise at the sight of him, and she attempted to no avail to regain her composure before speaking.

“Chat Noir? Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Just here to check in with my favorite reporter,” he answered as nonchalantly as he could manage, twirling the end of his leather tail. “Alya around?”  
  
A squeal echoed up the stairwell, followed by a drunken laugh which was then doubled by another.  
  
“She's, um...she's busy at the moment,” Marinette replied, glancing briefly behind her at the noise before turning her gaze back in his direction.

It stung a bit, the way she looked past him, peering over his shoulders.

“I-is Ladybug around? Don't you...need her?”

“Certainly. But there are some needs that even Ladybug can't fulfill for me.” He punctuated this with a wink. “Besides, it's not _that_ important.”

“But important enough to come to your reporter's house in the middle of the night?” Marinette's expression was one of barely-contained panic.

Chat couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for the anxiety he was evidently causing his already high-strung friend. Worrying her was not what he had set out to accomplish.

“You caught me. I just came by for a bit of...let's call it, 'advice,'” he lied. “But since she's busy, and you're right here, perhaps you could answer my question for me.”

“I-I mean, if it _is_ important, I can just go-” Marinette was cut off by Nino's voice echoing again up the stairs.

“But could Ladybug do _this_?” he teased distantly.

Alya laughed like the answer was not just nonhypothetical, but obvious. “Yeah, probably!”

Neither of them could help but smile at the downstairs exchange. Their eyes met once more, and this time Chat Noir was the first to speak.

“Actually, I think I'm even more curious how you would answer. So tell me, Marinette...” He leaned in a bit closer. “What do you look for in a man?”

She raised an eyebrow incredulously, but she couldn't help but smile at the question. “Don't tell me that's what you came over to ask her.”

“We've gotten close,” he shrugged.

Marinette pretended to seriously ponder his question, but was by no means ready to stop teasing him. “Well, I only go for rich model-types.”

“A princess deserves no less.”

“But in all seriousness...” Marinette stopped to think, surprised at how much pause the question gave her. She had never actually given much thought about what she looked for in a romantic partner – with her blinders on and Adrien serving the role of the carrot dangling always just out of reach in front of her, when it came down to describing her perfect man, the image that came to mind only ever fit a single description. A rich, model-type description. What exactly was it about him that had hooked her, not in the thoroughly intoxicating way that he had her in the closet just moments before, but at the very beginning?

“...he would have to be kind. The type who puts others before himself. I don't think I'd get along well for very long with someone who only ever put their best interests first.”

“Naturally.”

“And he'd have to be pretty cute!”

“I can think of someone.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Don't go making Ladybug jealous, now. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of her yo-yo if I were you.”

“Speak for yourself! I'd love nothing more.”

“But I guess most importantly...” She paused, thinking about the impact and meaning of the words that finally needed to be articulated. “Someone with a good heart. Someone who will love me for every part of who I am, even the parts that I don't like. And if I were to change, or they learned everything there is to know about me, I would hope they would love me still.” She appeared lost in thought for a moment, her eyes unfocused and her smile dreamy. After a moment, she appeared to remember Chat's presence.

“Someone, you know...worth being with.”

“Someone perfect,” he teased, cocking an eyebrow.

“But still possible,” she answered with a self-assured look.

“Sounds like we're about the same brand of romantic.”

“I suppose so.”

A tense pause filled the air between them. Chat gestured to her outfit, noting the slight dishevelment evident in just about every part of it – her messy hair, the crooked way the drawstring held on to her hips – before speaking.

“But if that's the case, it looks like someone's found her other half already,” he remarked, continuing to eye her up and down. As bizarre as it had been seeing Marinette wearing his pajamas before, the extra half-degree of separation that his transformation gave him made it all the more surreal. The slight pink on her cheeks didn't help matters, either.

“It's for a dare,” she asserted, trying in vain to smooth her hair down. She was suddenly all too aware of the fact that she didn't know what to do with her hands.

“Then it looks like you're being pretty daring.”

“Well, I...” Marinette wasn't sure exactly how to take this – but her mind jumped back to Nino's advice. _Be more like Ladybug!_

“Yeah...I guess I am!” She straightened up and looked him in the eye. “Well, you've got your answer. And as long as you're here, I know something else that might peak your interest.”

“Do tell.”

“Well...” This time, she was the one to lean in, her face less than a foot away from his. “Here's your scoop, kitty – I recently learned that you're not the only one crushing on Ladybug...”

The slight twitch of the corner of Chat's mouth, along with the way his eyes widened to expose even more emerald green, cracked the usually impenetrable poker face that Marinette had never seen him without. Even in the throes of combat, she couldn't recall him ever looking so exposed. She reveled for a long moment in the effect she had on him.

“...your favorite reporter just may be, too.”

The look of barely-contained relief that spread not just over Chat's face, but throughout his whole body, wasn't the reaction Marinette had been expecting. The way he caught himself then proudly puffed out his chest was much more in the style of the Chat she knew.

“Well, make sure to tell her that Ladybug only has eyes for me!” he said, the smirk she had grown so familiar with returning.

She blinked at him, her blue eyes wide. Before the last time that she had met up with him at the Agreste mansion, she might not have been able to stop herself from rebuffing his gloating. After all, there had been only one person Ladybug had pined for – despite his identity not being the one her partner had hoped for – and she found that Chat Noir's ego did need deflating every now and then. Right now, his statement still wasn't the whole truth of the situation, but it was a bit uncomfortably closer to it. While “me” might have previously been the error in his statement, Marinette shifted uncomfortably as she realized that it may now perhaps be “only.”

“I'll be off,” he said with a twirl of his baton. He slammed one end of it to the ground. “See you around, princess.”

“Later.” Marinette wiggled her fingers in a wave before reaching forward and pulling the door toward her.

Chat made to push the button on his staff, but hesitated for just a moment, reaching out to her instead.

“And Marinette?”  
  
“Hm?” She stopped the door just before it closed completely.

Just outside it, her partner pulled his hand back and surveyed her from head to toe. He made one last gesture at her clothes.

“Make sure he treats you at least as well as I would.”

With that, he retreated into the night, elevating himself with his staff before flipping onto the roof then out of sight through the nearby trees. Marinette closed the door behind her, venturing back down the stairs and crossing her fingers that whatever she found would not be too incriminating.

 

* * *

 

After doubling back and sneaking in almost soundlessly (the exception being the loud crash of him falling onto his ass onto the bathroom floor from the window), Adrien dropped his transformation. Stumbling to his feet, he took one look in the mirror and laughed, surprised to see Marinette's pajamas still clinging to him tightly. His cheeks and nose were tinged with red.

Plagg circled around him smugly. “Well how did you _think_ that would go?”

“I thought she'd found me out for a second there,” Adrien murmured, bending down to search his overnight bag for his toothbrush.

“With the way you had her feeling you up in the closest, I'd be more surprised if she hadn't.”

“You're making a lot of assumptions, Luna.”

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that, pretty soldier?” Plagg hovered between Adrien and the mirror as his chosen brushed his teeth, blocking his reflection. “And it can hardly be counted as just an assumption. Telepathic link aside, if you tried half the moves you're pulling tonight on Ladybug, she'd kick your ass.”

“And I would cherish every second.” He spit into the sink before looking back up at his kwami. “...but she was so cute! Do you think she was flirting with me?”

Plagg scoffed, then retreated wordlessly back into the bag.

 

* * *

 

Given the amount of time that had elapsed, Marinette strongly suspected that the ice cube currently shrinking into nothing atop Alya's stomach was not the same one they had started with. The bottles of chocolate and strawberry syrup conspicuously placed nearby on the floor, she noted, were certainly not there when she had excused herself upstairs. Nino sat straddling Alya just as Adrien had been on her a couple weeks before – even more recently in her looping memories – his lips holding the melting ice cube in place.

Marinette had entered wordlessly, reclaiming her pillow-covered spot in the middle of the room. Alya, however, was a giggling mess. Lying back on the floor clad only in a sports bra and pajama pants, her glasses askew and curls splayed halo-like on the floor around her, Marinette rarely saw her best friend this degree of happy and carefree. As happy as she was for Alya, she couldn't help but feel that she was intruding on something she shouldn't be.

Much to her relief and the slightly-delayed cheers of her friends, Adrien descended the stairs not a moment too soon, clad in her all-too-familiar nighttime wardrobe.

“Hey guys, sorry that took so long,” he said, rejoining the circle.

“You're just in time!” Alya said, sitting up so quickly that she hit Nino in the face on the way. The remainder of the ice cube fell in a wet puddle on the floor. “Nino was just about to spin for who's next!”

“I was?” the man in question replied, rubbing his sore nose.

“Well yeah, it's your turn!”

After everyone got resituated, Nino gave the bottle a quick spin, which landed pointing close enough to Adrien that Alya firmly declared it to be his turn. She groped around for her phone before finally grabbing it, and with Nino's assistance, opened up the next dare. “Do your _best_ imitation of a celebrity or classmate! Ooh, who are you gonna do?”

“I, um...who am I gonna...do?”

“You heard me, pretty boy!”

Adrien stammered an unintelligible response to the poorly phrased question.

Marinette saw her opportunity and seized it.

“Well, if it were me...” She brushed her hair back with her fingers, parting it roughly down the center, then swept it back and secured it in a high ponytail. She raised her chin up high, looking down her nose at the others. “...I know my daddy wouldn't be happy about this low-class debauchery! Isn't that right, Adrikins?”

Adrien quickly picked up the hint. He plucked Alya's glasses off her face and put them on, quite a spectacle in nothing but his female friends' attire. He leaned in toward Marinette and looked at her, his eyes filled with awe. “Whatever you say, Chloe! You know I'll do anything you want me to.”

“Anything?” Marinette nearly broke character, but kept her composure and raised her eyebrow in mock interest.

“Just say the word.”

Before she could do so, Alya joined in on the fun, striking a dramatic pose.

“Look at me, the local heartthrob with a tortured past! I may be socially awkward and bad at making drinks, but at least I'm really, really, ridiculously good looking!” She bent sideways in an effort to hit another pose, but quickly lost her balance and fell over.

Without missing a beat, Nino took the nearby bottle of chocolate sauce and dispensed a tiny drop onto his fingertip, then touched his forehead just above his left eyebrow.

“And _there's_ your scoop!” He looked over to the object of his imitation, still lying in the same place on the floor. “...you good, Alya?”

“Ugh...” Alya didn't move. “Could be better.”

“Need to go upstairs?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Kneeling down beside her, Nino gently scooped Alya into his arms and stood up, holding her bridal-style. He cooed something inaudible into her ear, then looked at the pair in front of him.

“I'm gonna get her some water and let her sleep in her own bed. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, yeah?”

Alya's cackle preempted any response that either of them might have had. “And what wouldn't _you_ do?” she slurred, her eyes closed and her head lolling into the crook of Nino's arm.

“Need any help?” Adrien offered, making to stand up.

“I think I'm good, I'll come grab you if I do. Come on, let's get some water in you,” he said to Alya, turning and vanishing up the stairs with her in his arms.

The silence that suddenly and uncharacteristically took hold of the room could not have last more than half a minute, but it may as well have been a full hour. Adrien cleared his throat, setting Alya's glasses down on the floor beside him.

“That was a full round, wasn't it?”

Marinette dutifully counted on her fingers, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands otherwise. “I mean, since it was me, then Alya, then Nino, and you just now...yeah, I suppose it was.”

Adrien couldn't seem to look her in the eye. “Well, as long as they're busy and we're alone together...”

_Alone together._ The words echoed in her mind as if on repeat until they almost began to lose meaning. Alone together with Adrien.

_Alone together._

_Alone._

_Together._

“...we could change back into our own pajamas,” he finished. Their eyes met, and an awkward attempt at a sly smile on Adrien's part made them both laugh.

With a slightly-too-fervent nod and a clasping of hands, they walked down the hallway toward the closet, alone together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I'd love to write the DJWifi scene and all the flirting it would entail I am emetophobic AF, so please instead stay tuned for Drunk Adrinette Flirting in the Closet: The Sequel. It may be a bit of a wait, I'm still working on my grad school app and helping my friend with an art project. 
> 
> Thanks (again!) to @acupfullofcolors for such an excellent dare idea and for being such an involved reader! Lovely comments like yours make writing all the more fun. 
> 
> Much love – until next time! <3


	10. Quick Fix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Marinette fulfill the second part of their dare - swapping back for their own clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, friends! Thanks for your continued patience!

Darkness enveloped Adrien and Marinette as she closed the door behind them. This time, neither of them reached for the dangling string that attached to the single bulb above them, instead keeping their hands on each other to keep their place in the cramped quarters of the hall closet. Marinette's hands held tightly on to the bare arms keeping her unsteady form in place.

“I'll be completely honest with you,” Adrien's voice came from above her before breaking into a laugh. “I have no idea what I'm doing.”

Marinette released a shaky breath of relief that she had not realized she had been holding. “Then that makes two of us.”

“So...I guess we should...”

She felt his hands slide down from her waist and back up under the oversized shirt, his fingers toying with the hem of her borrowed pants. She followed him, grabbing the waistline of his. The tenseness of the usually loose fabric under her fingers – and with a sudden boldness, over them as well – indicated that they were perhaps stretched beyond repair.

He laughed, touching her hand to stop it. “I think that these are something I'll have to take care of on my own.”

“O-Oh,” she stammered, pulling it away. “Sorry, I didn't- I mean-”

“But if you wanted to put mine back on me, I wouldn't say no.”

Marinette silently cursed the way her eyes were beginning to adjust to the light. If hers were, then his certainly were, and if his were, then he would certainly be able to tell exactly how flustered he already had her.

His other hand returned to its original spot, and he effortlessly hooked his fingers under the two layers – _his_ two layers – of sleepwear. “May I?”

She didn't dare make eye contact as she uttered a quiet affirmation. On her cue, she felt the fabric slide down her thighs under his touch, leaving her completely bare from the waist down. His hands never strayed from the outsides of her legs on their journey down, even as he guided her to step out of the articles. In all too short a time, he stood up again, holding his boxers and pajama pants in his outstretched hand just near enough to her for her to feel.

“If you'd like,” he offered.

Marinette took them almost automatically. “I think we have a deal.”

Looking anywhere in the darkened closet but at him, she fidgeted with the cloth between her fingers as he struggled out of her tight pink pants. A moment later, he stood back up in front of her. He made to give her the articles back, then hesitated.

“You probably don't want them back anymore, right? That is...your panties, I mean.”

Marinette didn't know whether she owed the sudden wave of heat that seemed to overcome her was more to relief, embarrassment, or the alcohol. She gave a quiet sigh, letting the knot in her stomach untie as she exhaled.

“Yeah, I'm way ahead of you.” She pulled the underwear from the inside of the pajama pants and dropped them onto the floor as Adrien followed suit.

“Can you imagine being _that_ close with someone?” she asked, brushing her fingers against his bare hip, wordlessly asking permission.

With Marinette's assistance, Adrien stepped back into his pajama pants one foot after the other. She pulled them up his legs, trying not to consider her current situation.

“Yeah, it's strange to think about,” he replied as she gave the final tug over his hips. He held out her pants. “May I?”

She nodded her approval. She wondered if the way he lingered, slow and deliberate as he pulled the cloth up her body, was truly as intentional as she hoped. His fingers brushed her waist as he moved the hem up high, where it sat loosely. Although her hips were by and large wider in relation to her body, there was no denying that Adrien's had the greater circumference overall.

As she went to pull the sleep shirt off of his body, she felt her pants slip down a few inches. Hastily, she caught them, leaving Adrien to finish removing his shirt.

“Sorry, did I stretch them out?”

“I'd be lying if I said no,” she said, gathering up the loose material. With her other hand, she reached up into her hair and removed a stray bobby pin. Looping the pin through the slit in the fabric, she slid both ends of the drawstring through, making sure they were firmly attached and then tying them off in a bow.

Adrien watched in awe as Marinette's hands moved deftly, expertly repairing the waistline. She reached for the shirt he was holding and toppled forward, the same hands that had moments ago been so graceful now clumsily gripping his bare chest. He couldn't help but laugh.

“How can so be so agile in some ways but so clumsy in others?” he teased.

“Hard to say,” she replied, straightening up. She felt his hand on her back, holding her steady. “Think I'm still a little tipsy.”

“I think you're not the only one.” He paused, considering his next words. “You know, that craftiness, your resourcefulness...I really like that about you.”

”You do?” Her heart pounded like a beating drum shaking her body from the inside out. 

“Yeah, I've always admired that about you. You always know what to do and how to do it, no matter what's going on.”   
  
She desperately hoped that he didn't notice how wet her palms were. Somehow, she realized that it didn't matter. 

“I don't! I'm really just making it up as I go.” She had no idea if the quick pulse she felt where their skin met was his or her own.

“Improvising? I should take a page out of your book.” 

He was closer now, judging by the way her fingers bent slightly back against his chest as he leaned in. His hot breath on her ear as he spoke confirmed this.

“Maybe I should try something a little crazy.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper but clear as a bell from the proximity.

Marinette swallowed, but the lump in her throat stuck.

“How crazy?”

The echoes of her heartbeat through her body threatened to shatter her.

“I think I want to kiss you.”

Even as she stood frozen, her insides felt as though they had all liquefied.

“I think I want to kiss you too.” Time stood still for just a moment before her fingers curled against his chest. “But...”

“But not right now?”

“Not like this.” Realizing she had been holding her breath again, she inhaled deeply to calm her nerves. “I just...always imagined it as being a bit more...romantic, I guess.”

“Always?” His amused smile was more than evident in his voice.

The realization of what she had just said hit her like a truck. “Um, I-I mean...”

Despite her evidently admirable creativity, there was no way, she realized, to dig herself out of the hole she had just swan dived into.

“It's not like I had it all planned out,” she told him, half-truthfully. “But I won't say I've never considered the possibility.”

His hand eased off of its place on her upper back, coming to rest on her other hip.

Now that she was staring directly at the opportunity she had dreamed about for so long, she was face-to-face with the wild expectations that she held for it. It only made sense, when she thought about it, that her first kiss with Adrien wouldn't happen alone at the top of the Eiffel Tower, or on a gondola ride in the canals of Italy, or atop a white horse as they rode off into the sunset. Sure, her fantasies were perhaps a bit unrealistic, but tipsy and half-naked in someone else's closet was a combination of factors that she had never even considered.

“I just thought it might be – you know, if it ever happened – more of a baring of souls than, you know...baring everything else.” She was suddenly all too aware of the fact that they were only halfway done. She would be topless in front of him – not once, but _twice_ in one night – without ever having kissed him. “N-Not that this isn't nice! You're just gorgeous. Not that you needed me to tell you that!”

She felt the tip of his finger pressed to her parted lips, and suddenly she found herself flooded with regret, wishing he would quiet her a different way.

“You're cute when you ramble.”

The tension melted away. She laughed in relief.

“So, what would you like to do?” Adrien asked, pushing a lock of dark, messy hair behind Marinette's ear.

“Well, we still have to switch our shirts back, don't we?”

“If you insist. This look has really grown on me.”

“You do look damn fine.”

 

* * *

 

The two of them stepped out of the closet together, Adrien excusing himself upstairs to go check on their friends while Marinette made herself comfortable among the blankets and pillows on the floor in the main room.

As Marinette's buzz wore off, panic started to set in. She took a deep breath in, suddenly aware that she had barely been breathing. Her heart rate hadn't slowed a bit since they'd left the closet. There was a non-zero chance – possibly _very_ much so – that she had screwed things up entirely. What if he had taken her momentary hesitation to be a much broader rejection? Would she have to make the first move next time – assuming there even was a next time? Why would he even bother trying again knowing that the circumstances would never live up to her fantasies?

She scrambled and her hands and knees over to her overnight bag, pulling it closer and unzipping the side pocket. Tikki zipped out, having already abandoned a half-eaten cookie, only to be gently pushed back inside by Marinette's cupped hand.

“Sorry Tikki, we don't have much ti-”

“Marinette, I know I'm usually not this blunt with you, but you have to relax!” Tikki cut her off, understanding the urgency without needing it explained.

“How can I possibly relax?!” Marinette realized the very-much-outdoors volume of her voice, clearing her throat before continuing. “I mean, that was probably my one and only chance and I totally blew it!”

“I told you before, it's never going to be your 'last chance!'” Tikki flitted as close to Marinette as her chosen would allow, looking her dead in the eyes. “That was progress. You still have time and opportunity – maybe even moreso!”

“Even after _that_?”

“Yes, Marinette! Remember, you two were made for each other!”

The sound of approaching footsteps from upstairs made Marinette jump. Holding open the pocket of her overnight bag, she smooched her kwami on the head. “Thanks, Tikki!”

Tikki zipped into the pocket just as Adrien started into the room.

“Yeah, she's not doing so hot,” Adrien said as he descended the stairs. He walked over to their spot on the floor, slumping as he sat down beside her. “Man, I feel terrible. If I hadn't mixed her that drink...”

“It's not your fault!” Marinette was quick to jump to his defense. Because it really wasn't, she told herself, not because she felt like she should be walking on eggshells after rejecting him. “I mean, not _really_ , anyway.”

“Heh, it kind of is.” The palpable guilt he exuded was poorly hidden by a shrugging of shoulders.

“It's not like anyone ever taught you,” she offered.

“There's a lot of things that no one ever taught me.” His response was quick and measured – quicker than Marinette had been expecting.

Marinette mentally slapped herself upside the head. Theoretically, she knew better than to broach the subject of his father. Despite her typical bad luck, she certainly considered herself fortunate to have two loving parents to come home to – before she moved off to her own apartment closer to campus, anyway. Although she found herself disagreeing with and hiding more from them as she came of age, she did not take for granted the little ways they showed her their love. Lessons in pastry cutting, small surprise gifts as thoughtful as they were useful, and warm cups of tea during the first days of her periods were small gestures of familial affection she relished as not only things that reminded her of the important things in life, but also that grounded her when everything in her life seemed so chaotic. Imagining life without her mother and father to guide her would be to imagine no life at all.

“Sorry things got weird. With your dad, I mean...”

If Marinette's foot could have found its way any further into her mouth, she thought, she would be gagging on it.

Adrien gave her a sad kind of smile. “Don't worry, it's not like you were responsible for it.”

Marinette laughed awkwardly. As bad as it felt knowing that she had a part in jailing Gabriel Agreste, she knew he was ultimately responsible for his own actions, so it wasn't her fault. 

Not _really_ , anyway.

She cleared her throat, buying time while she wracked her brain for some – _any_ – other topic of conversation.

“So what is it like? Living with just Nathalie?”

Adrien buried his feet under one of the many blankets surrounding and supporting them. “Honestly, it's a little weird. Not bad, but different. It's not like I saw much of my dad even when he was around. I still spend most of my time alone in my room when I'm not working. But it is still weird.”

“How is that?” Marinette asked, suspecting she already knew the answer.

Adrien looked pensive for a moment. He looked away from her, running his fingers through his hair and staring into space instead. “Something happened recently.” He took a breath, steadying himself as though weighing the impact of his words. “Someone broke into my house. I was home at the time, and Chat Noir showed up and told me to hide. But they tied up Nathalie. If it hadn't been for Ladybug and Chat Noir...”

She feigned surprise at his words, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh my gosh, what happened?”

Adrien leaned back against the bottom of the couch. He paused for a moment, deciding exactly how to tell his story, before continuing. “It was right after the last sleepover. I wasn't back home for ten minutes before I heard Nathalie scream. Someone had tied her up and was rummaging through my dad's office. I've only told Nino until just now.”

Marinette leaned back too. “May I ask what they tried to take?”

“Just some files and folders. Apparently he'd downloaded some stuff onto a USB drive before Ladybug and Chat showed up. Information about his company, financial records and all that. Stuff that might be valuable if it weren't a couple years out of date.”

“Why would he want it, then?”

Adrien shrugged, finally looking back at her again. “Who knows? Maybe he was working for a competitor. Maybe he was just some idiot who thought that he could sell it for more than anything in the house actually worth taking. It's not like my family is really even involved in the business anymore.”

“But you and Nathalie are okay?”

“Just shaken up a bit. Her more than me, I think. She's been away even more than usual talking to police and media to keep it out of the news. Actually, she even talked to the radio station Nino and Alya work at to make sure we didn't wind up on the Ladyblog.”

His eyes flitted upwards, indicating their friends upstairs, before he stretched out his legs, once again fully covered by his own pajama pants. “So I guess things are changing even more at home. We've even set up more security measures. I don't wanna say 'don't bring _any_ metal objects the next time you come over,' but...”

“But if I did, I might be subject to being patted down?”

He laughed, his face lighting up anew. “On second thought, maybe some change in your pocket may not be a bad idea.”

“As long as you're the one doing the frisking.” She could feel herself turning pink, surprising herself once again with her own boldness. “But Adrien?”

“Hm?”

“If something happens...you can always talk to me.”

He smiled back at her. “You've got yourself a deal.”

And they talked and laughed for what could have been eternity as easily as a few hours, until even the sky blushed rose.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to S2E2 for having an Adrinette dancing scene and doing it even better than my fanfic lmao. Alya is the greatest wingman of all time. I know you guys are as excited as I am for the rest of season two!!!


	11. One for the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette and Adrien wake up together after a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excellent news my friends. Alya's house in the show looks very similar to how I have been picturing and describing it here, right down to the long right-angle couch in the living room! For the sake of the fic we'll keep pretending it has a second floor.

The persistent, nagging sound of a half-familiar piano piece looped and crescendoed, breaking the tranquil morning silence and forcing open Marinette's bleary eyes. An arm groggily reached across her in an attempt to silence the alarm, one bigger and tanner than her own. She watched as Adrien's thumb reflexively swiped a pattern on the screen, quieting the noise.

Adrien's thumb.

Attached to Adrien's arm.

Which was currently draped across Marinette's body.

He groaned, a lazy protest that echoed in Marinette's mind, relaxing and comforting her. He pulled her closer, his arm wrapping around her front in a tight embrace.

And then Marinette could feel her heart rate leap.

She turned her head to confirm what she already knew.

With his nose buried in her raven hair, a gentle smile on his face, Adrien Adreste held her in his arms. The gentle sunlight that filtered in through the window illuminated him, making him appear to glow golden. Despite having known him for so long, for having spent so much time with him over so many years, she could recall very few instances where he looked so serene.

So peaceful.

So content.

She tried to still her pounding heart, wanting to see him stay this way, worried that the noise would wake him. Before it got the chance, the phone beside her chimed again, and Adrien's eyelids parted.

“Mornin', Mari.”

She felt herself flush, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

“Morning.”

She turned to lay on her back and his hand followed, moving from her stomach to hold her at the hip.

“How'd you sleep?”

“Never better,” she quipped, and he laughed in what she hoped and knew was agreeance.

The phone chirped again, and Adrien reached past her, tapping a few keys to read the new messages. He set it back on the floor face-down and looked back into Marinette's eyes.

“Well I'm awfully sorry to cut this off, but it looks like Nathalie is almost here. This has been a lot of fun.”

She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes flitted up and down as he said this, noting their situation.

“Yeah, let's do it again sometime.”

He smiled at her boldness. “Just say the word. And thanks for talking with me last night. That was nice.”

“Any time at all.” She rolled over, facing him to show her sincerity. His hand slid to the small of her back, and she relaxed into his touch. “I mean that.”

“I know you do. That's why you're so wonderful.”

It was then that Marinette really realized the significance of their proximity. All of him was against all of her, and he was so warm and soft and firm and radiant all at once. She felt sparks flying at every point of contact, from his chest pressed against hers to their tangled legs.

“And since it'll be a bit,” he asked, brushing a lock of her bed-messy hair behind her ear, “could I have one for the road?”

And this time she didn't even need the invitation, her lips capturing his as he finished the question. He took hers too, as if he had been waiting for this before he had even asked. They held each other, each pulling the other closer, each pushing against the other. Marinette couldn't help the shuddering breath that she exhaled as their lips parted. Their eyes fluttered open, asking permission, for approval, and confirming the others desires, closing once again as they went back for more.

This time, there _was_ more. Their legs intertwined even tighter, their hold on each others' bodies became even more desperate, the kiss deepened as their tongues found one another. His hand that wasn't tangled in her hair rested on the bare skin between her tank top and her pajama pants, not venturing into either, but cherishing the uninterrupted contact. Marinette wasn't so modest, her fingertips sneaking up just past the underside of his shirt, exploring the ridges and valleys of muscle on his abdomen.

They lay together this way, moving against each other, their lips and tongues joining and rejoining, until Adrien's leg turned expertly against the inside of Marinette's thigh, pulling her atop him while he steadied her with his hand. She was more than happy to comply, grinning as she looked down at him under her, his pelvis straddled between her legs. With his messy golden hair and his emerald eyes glittering in the morning sunlight, he was certainly a sight to behold, and she was pulled like a magnet back to him. Even more than the beautiful visage of his sleepy, contented smile just seconds before she watched him wake up, she didn't want this moment to end.

But just as before, the persistent buzzing of Adrien's phone rudely interrupted their mutual trance.

With another groan of protest, he groped around on the floor beside them, silencing the notification, only breaking away at the last moment. He never broke eye contact as he turned them both onto their sides. Leaning in, he gave her one last, gentle kiss. He brushed another strand of hair behind her ear, ending it just as it had begun.

“Thank you, Sugarlips.”

With that, he pulled the covers back over her, tucking her in as if she wasn't going to be sleepless for weeks after a kiss like that, before he got up and collected his things. After a final goodbye, he disappeared up the stairs.

One million thought raced through her mind, very few of which were especially coherent. A particular one – one she was very familiar with – kept repeating amongst the noise.

_I have to tell Alya._

This singular goal in mind, she jumped out of the makeshift bed and – hangover notwithstanding – bounded up the stairs.

 

After checking Alya's empty bedroom, she knocked on the bathroom door which stood ajar nearby. It swung open, and Marinette winced at the sight. Alya slept slumped over the toilet, snoring lightly. Her glasses sat neatly on the counter, and her hair was braided off to the side in a style that Marinette had never seen her wear before, and certainly not one she would have been able to accomplish herself in the time between her drunken consciousness and what looked like a pretty hard crash. The stylist, Marinette could only assume, was equally asleep in the bathtub, his hat pulled over his face to block the light.

It tore her up inside, but her news would have to wait. Marinette dutifully retrieved two glasses of water and a sleeve of saltines from the kitchen, setting them down on the bathroom floor quietly beside her friends. She gathered up her belongings and changed before heading home to process everything.

As she closed the front door behind her, she typed up a short message for Alya to wake up to.

> | You're never going to believe what just happened...

 

* * *

 

The overnight bag hit the floor as soon as Adrien entered his room, producing a barely-audible yowl of annoyance from inside. He bent down and unzipped it, freeing Plagg to fly out and do as he wished. Adrien flopped down into the chair by his desk, spinning around in his excitement. The smile plastered across his face showed no sign of shrinking. His cheeks burned in a bliss that he couldn't remember feeling since...  
  
On second thought, a bliss that he had never felt the likes of before.

He took a deep breath in and out, staring up at the ceiling in contemplation. He wanted to tell the whole world about his morning, to shout about it out his high window, to let every man, woman, and child in Paris know that he had – and he still couldn't believe it – _kissed_ Marinette. He grabbed his phone, opening his chat log with Nino and tapping out half a message before trailing off. Scrolling back, he typed in a new message to a new recipient.

> | Can't thank you enough for a wonderful night and an even better morning :)

A surge of adrenaline filled him as he tapped the send button. He set the phone facedown onto his desk before covering his face with his hands. The question of what to do next echoed loudly with each beat of his heart. A reply lit up the screen a few long minutes later.

> | To you as well. Hopefully next time we won't get interrupted ;)

With his question answered by the reflexive throb below his waist, he undid the drawstring of his pajama pants, reached inside, and got to work.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for continuing to tune in! I didn't realize slow burns are as stressful to write as they are to read. Be patient with me and I will try to make the wait worth it. <3


End file.
